She who once bestowed on me (though I
am but a cursèd undeserving wight)
a scattering of petals from a rose
now sits not thirty feet away, and I
---who have through all my life been pained and weak---
lack strength to walk so short a ways and say:
``O you who do not know the depths to which
my heart sinks down for you, I am in love
with you.''
--Neil Moore
The `she' of the above (written in December 2000) still has my copy of Jorge Luis Borges's Selected Poems. She has moved to another town, and I have not talked to her since May 2001. I bought another copy of the book.