She read once again, his soft words; and she wondered
were these just words crafted? Or heart-thoughts, so bright?
Were they whispered for her, as her dreaming, he plundered,
and stole her heart, soft, as a thief in the night.

For each serene rhyming, soft, gently caressing
the female heart; whispering, how sweet, love should be,
perhaps, were just words, gentle laid for the guessing,
were they sweet truths? Or just, wistful whimsy?

But, she could not know such love he had once called his own,
was now, but pale shadow of what had once been;
the sweet words he rhymed had no home; wandered all alone;
love had turned her smile away from his dream.

And thus, as she wondered; soft cloaked there, before her,
lay truth in the whispers; perhaps, she would see
she need, but reach out with her heart, to soft capture
the dream she shared with him, and bring it to be.