A Reflection

Tell me, what more should I require
At the starting of this day,
Than that all my hopes should aspire
To what I need to say.
Instead my words are flown
From mind to page, unsaid,
As a wafting feather unnoticed,
Floating down gently to lie dead.
But I would want you to know them,
The words within my heart,
The thoughts in every chasm,
Where only you play a part.
Yet I am too afraid of losing
That which I hold so dear,
And you, you are too far from me,
I think that you’d not hear.