What if I could stand as still as stone
As pale as bone
Here all alone
Would you then see me as I am
Or would I stand
Forever in a land where light had never shone?
What if I could be your quiet guard
Your singing bard
With knuckles scarred
Would you then choose to finally see
And offer me
The you I always see in dreams that you have starred?
What if I could hold a single pose
Any you chose
Would I become worthy to hold
Be seen as bold
Or merely seen as cold, a perch for dying crows?
What if I could speak and you’d reply
Or even try
A simple “hi”
Would I then find the thing I seek
Or, standing meek,
Continue feeling weak and asking, “What if you were breath, and I was but a sigh?”