Love for whom, I dare not say,
too bad that I should know;
a tempo swirls around my feet-
a sobbing moan's eternal lurch-
the meter fades beneath the beat
until I cannot make it out.

I rest assured, the words will come,
not easy, though, to keep;
yet still my song will grow anew
perhaps to other measured tones,
a different tune than that I knew,
but still a gentle requiem.