Poem : Untitled : by Wil C. Fry

There is a fair maiden, indeed a princess in the land
How I long to show my love, to hold in mine her hand
When in her presence, I speak with faltering lips
For her, to the Moon would I make a thousand trips
Yet how can I stake my life on her love for me,
When I know not whether my thoughts and hers agree.
Does she love me — how am I to know?
How I long to be — where her thoughts come and go.

As she walks upon the floors and passes me by,
I sense her presence, and feel like floating in the sky.
My soul feels raptured when she is near,
But yet, because I'm uncertain, there is fear.
I will aim to please her, with the power in my control
I will attempt to let her feel my love in her soul
For to have her would I commit folly
To hold and have the princess Holly.

Written to Holly L., a classmate.

On the back of the original document, I wrote these words, presumably to a friend:

“Just as the Great Penguin of the South Sahara flies to and fro above the Earth,
so does my yearning for Holly grow every day.
But just as men do not warn the watermelon seeds of their coming distribution,
she has never a confirming thing to say.”