If

If tears could wash away the sting of pain
I’d weep a salty river, deep and wide.
Within its sultry depths perhaps a grain,
a panacea there for love denied.

If hope could resurrect a cherished time
of arms entwined in summer-scented bliss,
I’d wish a thousand days and nights sublime,
to melt again in love’s enchanted kiss.

If memories could play and still be real,
not shadows lying in the dusty past,
I’d savour every moment to reveal
my deepest unrequited love at last.

Yet tears fall dry upon a barren bed
where chances, never taken, now lie dead.