by Eric Y. Theriault

Out of the blue;
And usually decisive,
I know not what to do.
Since I do not know,
All that much of you;
And those you have stated,
I do not know if they are still true.

Would be my pleasure,
And so would much more,
If only I knew your leisure.
For if someone shared it,
I know that I could not measure.
But if there are none,
I know that your heart I'd forever treasure.