Denied

May my own senses refuse the grace
Granted without rhyme or case,
That of which my being expects,
Of what I hoped my heart would trace.

Tiny fingers reaching out
For a word both new and full of doubt.
Your time and space I did deny,
Only to my weakness did I comply.

So, my budding child in dreams,
The final victim of my schemes.
No tears can ever make amends,
Left only with what never mends.