If it is only a Poem,
then I am Blameless,
no matter the racing of my heart.
I can name this aching Admiration
and be no better or worse
than others who read your verse
and sigh the same.
This flush that stains my cheeks
speaks only to Envy
of your gift so rich and wicked
that it shames my paltry skill
for necessary Fictions.
For Open Link Monday at Real Toads