Ideally, You

I read your happy notes here, on this page,
But hear no note of music from your throat.
Imagination leaps to take the stage,
But oh, ‘s too weak to capture one sweet note.
Then how, you say, do I know sweet is there?
Or how en-figure face more rare than rare,
Dream pansy-cheeks of perfumes perfect, pure,
Know nothing, yet know everything for sure?
Eyes walk between the lines, all through them, too;
Up, down, around, beside, I search for you.
My logic, my good reason, can’t be wrong;
No! That singing in my head, it was your song!
Yet oh, my dear, to hear you near and real,
I’d gladly give up dreams for such ideal!

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