To Marie Haynes

Could I, with this pen, convey to you, dear Marie,
Not of my liking, but my love- no less.
Of what your warm friendship's come to mean to me.
And that it's brought me a genuine happiness?
Would that I could but find the words, dear one,
To tell how you're endeared within my heart.
Tho I have other friends, it's really true
That you are something special, set apart.
Oft times the skys seem, oh so grey,
And I feel so lonely, sad, and blue-
That is when I need most of all, dear friend,
An understanding soul like you.
So I will not wait until the curtain falls, dear one
For either you or me.
But, I must need write now these hurried lines
Of my love for you, for you to see.

By Treva E. Stokes (1912-1980)