May, the 21st

My Buddy

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, wich i have loved, should touch
another`s and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another`s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;


if this should be, i say if this should be--
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands, 
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.


e. e. cummings