“A Thousand Fair Suitors�?lt;o:p></o:p>

By: Brandon Moore<o:p></o:p>

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A thousand fair suitors all stab at your heart<o:p></o:p>

Those poets of movement and jockeys of art<o:p></o:p>

The high-volume dealers who hustle romance<o:p></o:p>

Splashing there canvas with color and dance<o:p></o:p>

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The blasters of trumpets, gold banners unfurled<o:p></o:p>

They offer lush gardens in glistening worlds<o:p></o:p>

Yes, bearers of torches and carvers of stone<o:p></o:p>

Who whisper there sonnets and surrender there thrones<o:p></o:p>

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Now here in your doorway, no shadow is cast<o:p></o:p>

No lingering voices, no ghosts from the past<o:p></o:p>

Just a cluster of walls, and a window of pain<o:p></o:p>

Collecting the heartache like droplets of rain<o:p></o:p>

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Still I stand before you, with palms to the sky<o:p></o:p>

No gold in my pocket, no thorn in my side<o:p></o:p>

And all I can offer, where words have no place<o:p></o:p>

Is a body that trembles, and this love that awaits<o:p></o:p>