Red Chair

If I was as handsome
as the crisp sun shining
upon your lovely tress
through the open window,
as you sit reading in your red chair,
I would confess my love to you.

If I was as bold
as the mischievous breeze
fluttering the pages of your book
by the open window,
as you sit reading in your red chair,
I would confess my love to you.

If I was as mysterious
as the dark-eyed night
that creeps unseen
upon your open window,
as you sit reading in your red chair,
I would confess my love to you.

If I was as attractive
as the fireflies, enticing
in their wild dance
outside your open window,
as you sit reading in your red chair,
I would confess my love to you.

And if I was as welcome
as the sweet summer rain
that wets the sill
of your closed window
as you sit reading in your red chair,
I would confess my love to you

(2003)