A stare is an insult,
Although it be filled with love,
For if the rain comes,
It has to come from above:
He has to say hello,
He has to state his case;
He can’t just make her wet
By looking into her face.
She might feel his love
And really want to play
But when you look with love,
There’s very little to say.
The body is excited,
The grass with the dew is wet.
The love shimmers.
Perhaps you’ll talk to her yet.
