william f park Poems

Perfection, the myth of all our desires
Which, with inner eye we seek
For the beauty which will satisfy
All our wants
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Whereof ye gods speak softly now
Of all my thoughts inflamed
Which, through my mind is trawled
And offered out untamed
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Be still my heart
Whenever my love is near
Don't tremble
It makes my feelings clear
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Quietly, in early morning
As I sit reflecting, hearing the silence
Wondering what the day ahead will offer
If, like a flower will open and be full
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Where'er there is a love emotion
Which agitates our heart
Wonderful, when running true
To build the house of life
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Should I with youth long gone conspire
To inter the seed of all desire
Then, shall all my thoughts be still
Cloistered within the walls of age
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Like a songbird on a summer morn
And the warmth of the sun
I heard your voice
As we talked one to one
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Softly, in the silence of the morning
I felt your need, and heard your tears fall
And in sympathy I grieved
Because I could not call
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One magic moment when saying goodbye
Became a dream; a wishful thought
To come and go within my mind
Why should this be so? Who knows?
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Oft' times in sadness we sigh for what has gone
Wishful we think it will return
The youth that was yesteryear
When our world was small
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