All These Poems… - a poem

 all these poems have no meaning

 mambo-jumbo without feeling

 pretty book full of words

 with no love, it strikes no chords

 pretty book collecting dust

 I will read them if I must

 I will read them to myself

 all those thoughts in which I delve

 Rumi's love is not my fate

 in your soul, I've seen my mate

 all these feelings were not fake

 I will read them to the lake

 I will read them to the trees

 you would say, "I am so .." amiss

 what a loony would say this?

 "... to the lake and to the trees"?

 yet I know that you will hear

 when your spirit comes quite near

 not today, and not tomorrow

 you're sad; your heart is hollow

 when you come in years that follow

 and you'll listen without sorrow

 you will hear it, my dear friend:

 I've been asking for your hand.