Did I tell you
  I envy the honeybee
That hovers around your neck
  Attracted to the scent of your perfume?

Did I tell you
  I envy the bandage
That has been entrusted to heal
  The paper cut on your finger?

Did I tell you
  I envy the words
On the pages you read
  That dance in the reflections of your eyes?

Did I tell you
  I envy the air
That inhales cool and exhales warm
  From your soul?

Did I tell you
  I envy the pencil
That you hold as you write
  Words on paper?

Did I tell you
  I envy the flush
That colors your face
  When you laugh and smile?

If I have failed,
  As I have and will,
My fondest desire is
  That you know how I feel.