Influenced By

Sir Thomas Wyatt

Stalking within the chambers of my mind,
I hear your footsteps always,
Seeking you, I flee from what is real,
And I bring shame upon my name,
That through danger and toil I put myself,
To take bread at your hand,
But maybe you are busily seeking,
Something else, not me.

How alone my devotion makes me feel,
Only you can cure.
These forces within my mind sabotage

And create a distorted reality.

One time or twice especial, you caught me in your arms,

Therewithal did caress and comfort my form,

As I breathed in such a precious moment,

And wept because I could have no more.

In broad awaking, and in dream,

These memories both haunt and comfort

As I twist and build into what I have want of.

But once thoughts have turn'd back to stark reality,

So bitter the suggestion of knowing these falsities,

And plea for a less unkind serving.