All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o'er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone. Whatever is to come is not; How can it then be mine? The present moment's all my lot; And that, as fast as it is got, Phyllis, is wholly thine. Then talk not of inconstancy, False hearts, and broken vows; If I, by miracle, can be This live-long minute true to thee, 'Tis all that heaven allows. By John Wilmot ...

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Look into your heart and tell me what you see. Am I still on your mind; are you thinking of me? Do you wake in the night and let out a sigh? Do you whisper my name and wonder why; I can't be there with you tonight? With you in my arms, holding you tight? Do you believe in the miracle of Love Do you believe in you Do you believe in Love Do you believe it could happen to you Take me in your arms, don't ever leave With you ...

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How much I'd like to tell him I wouldn't never do anything to jeopardize our friendship. This poem shows that someone can hurt you with out knowing, but keep you coming back for more. I've been caught swimming in his eyes again. Holding my heart so it doesn't break in his presence. I've been known to have to steady my breathing at his smile, as my own returns with red cheeks. As the subject of my never ending sentences, he calls upon pauses that should not be ...

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