A thousand fair men line up to steal your heart,
Some are poets and all are jockeys of their art,
All have gold in their pockets, just looking to start,
You the beautiful queen, men want you in every way,
So they can boast to others, their quest for one day,
Dressed in their very best, selling you romance,
Not showing true colors, betting you'll take a chance,
They offer gardens of beauty and worlds far away,
Bringing good tidings and great carvings made of stone,
When you fall in their trances, after-wards your left alone,
Waving gold banners pledging truth to you, they always stray,
But there in your doorway you stand, your lonely shadow is cast,
What was romance and love, are lingering ghosts from the past,
Just you there in a doorway of pain, heartache falling like rain,
There i stand before you, hands clasped reaching to the sky,
No gold in my pocket, nor poet am i, shabby cloths cover my hide,
And all i can only offer, where fancy words have no place,
'Tis a body that trembles, and true love that awaits,
