To My Lady Cath-er-ine
Dance, my ballerina, dance
As you gracefully turn and turn,
From me, I watch you steal a glance
For you, my heart slowly burns.
In the corners of the attic,
Cobwebs in the shadows making me blind
Without your love,
I will soon go out of my mind.
Thoughts of you are impure,
A thought of you makes me weak,
From me, you can run, as you will,
Though you, I will continue to seek.
And I will find you on the attic windowsill.
I stop to breathe your golden hair,
Your blood runs fast with mine.
Your young body, so fair.
Please, please give me some sign
of your love for me
Don't you see?
My love for you is slowing killing me?
Christopher Doll