In my youth I was acquainted with

passion, ambition, and politeness.


Later Sadness became my mistress.

Empty was her caress.


In my old age everyone leaves me

because I am spent of riches and finesse.


Inebriated one evening at mass.

I press a flower to my chest.

Beauty does not judge my weakness.


In dreams I meet a lovely goddess.

Maternal sweet lady, grand priestess.


At last Love became my new mistress.

She understood my sorrow and distress.


When I think my happiness could be no less,

Death embraces me with even more tenderness.






I am Flame. I am Fire.
I set in motion the Heartís desire.

Flames of Love burn inside my soul.

Gushing upward, out of control.


Sizzling sparks of passion my eyes do fill.

The stars light up; my heart is still.

My spirit yearns to glide and soar.

To journey to paradise on celestial shores.


On the Isles of Immortality gods frolic and dance.

Inviting all to partake of joyous, sweet romance.

Each moment with oneís Beloved yields magical bliss.

My being quivers in ecstasy with each and every kiss.


When I fix my gaze on the mysterious night sky.

I am reminded that no one ever truly dies.

By the flames of transmutation I am being reborn.
Joyous tears and dewdrops will kiss me in the early morn.






The windy rain soaks through my thick dark coat.

The frigid air chills me to the bone.

Still I must walk on.

Only then does the gnawing at my heart subside.


I shiver and shake.

The cold absorbs some of the pain.

Not enough, but some.


Why did she have to leave me?

She said weíd be together forever.

Actually forever and a day.


I believed her.
I wanted to, needed to.

It made me happy to.


I pass by the museum where we met.

I was with my girlfriend.
She was with her boyfriend.

But when they introduced us, we knew.


Barren hearts could live on empty no more.

The cost was too dear.

We could fool ourselves no longer.

They forgave us after the tears;

after the hurt and fights.


We loved for a time.

Too short a time.

I should be grateful.

Some never love.


Too afraid, too numb, too tired.

I contemplate going in just for memories sake.

I look upward.

A big twinkling star winks at me.


I enter.

She is gone.

She is there.

Memories can be almost real.






To be love struck!

What a thrill.

To care so much that self ceases to matter.

To lose yourself in the other.

To adore being a part of their world.


To clasp them to your heart

and be touched by the softness and magic of love.

To awaken full of excitement and tender thoughts

as you gaze at your Belovedís image in your mind.


Their image is as real as their physical presence.

For in your heart you are no longer two, but one.
To know and cherish such love was my joy.


A special magical link between man and woman

which, although was as never as physical as I desired,

was no less tangible, no less real.


I had had a couple other girl friends.

I thought there were moments when Love was nigh.

But not until she came into my world did I know

the kind of love that can never die.


A love stronger than fear, suffering and the

sorrows of the heart.

A love which effaces misunderstandings and

moods of selfishness.

Ever plentiful in forgiveness and playfulness.


Yes, she was a very playful woman.

She loved her sporty little blue Capri.

It was this big grown up girlís favorite toy.


Twinkling, glowing eyes that winked at me

every time she speeded, making my heart miss a few beats.

But she would always slow down when I asked her to.


To touch her soft warm hands set my passions afire.

Sadly she never gave me her all.

This only made me yearn for her more and more.


She loved me as best she could.

Gave me so much that I did need.

Gave me abundant affection and sensuality.


Sometimes I went to movies she wanted

to see just to be next to her.

Sometimes I would scoot my body close to her,

and place my hand beside her.

It was dark.

Iím surprised people could not see the sparks

that flew from her to me.


I know she felt the sparks too.
Sometimes she left her hand next to mine for a time

before switching her body position.


There were unspoken joys I never tried to name.

Subdued sighs and gasps when I massaged her full body,

knowing she could take this pleasure without

giving the same back to me.


I managed.

She loved me in so many other ways.

She was there for me.

She laughed and cried with me.

She held me when I yearned to understand God.

Listened to me when I needed to talk long,

when I needed to be heard.


Time took her away after four years.

But I will never lack love.

Anytime I feel low I draw upon our memories.

And in those memories I find the strength to go on.






For six years I loved her.

After college she moved away.

Two years later she returned, met a local boy and soon married him.


What of us?

All that we shared?

The long massages.

The way her eyes delved into my soul making me dizzy.


How I miss the times we lay side by side,

rubbing each otherís feet, speaking of our

dreams, life, whatever came to mind.


I was so in love.

She loved me.

There is a difference.

She held back.
I never did.


She is married now, has two children and two step-children.

She always wanted children.

She told me that the first day we met.


She does not look at her husband with the admiration and

sweetness that emanates from her eyes when she looks at me.

His eyes guard our secrets.

Our special times before she met him.


Our sensual times.

Piggy back riding times.

Chasing butterflies and dream times.


And me wondering would she ever stop?

Would she ever stop long enough to really see

how much I loved her?


I tried to tell her a few times.

It was awkward.

She did not understand.

So I stopped trying.

I continued suffering, hoping, yearning and loving her


She is no longer the same woman I knew and loved.

Compromise has its price.

Her dark dreamy eyes conceal what they used to reveal.

Her soul is obscure to even me now.


But never our memories.

They are crystal clear.

I sip my coke, and look out the window.

Autumn is arriving.

The crisp air feels good.
Memories wash over me.


The night I told her how in love with her I was.
I knew she loved me by the feel of her embrace.

Her special warm touch.

The night she held me long and tender.
The way I had always yearned for her to hold me.


We cried and cried.

She told me she loved me.

Her skin next to mine.

Her heart beating alongside my own.

Our tears merged and our hearts.



I know she still loves me.

Her eyes reveal it.

So does her smile when we sip wine together

in a restaurant away from her new world.

Away from the person she has become.

I glimpse her old self; the woman I loved.

It warms me but fills me with sorrow too.


I do not know what she told her husband about us.

Probably that we were close college friends.


Too many years have I loved this woman.

Too many years of unrequited love.

Painful years to the heart.

Difficult sorrowful years to the soul.
It takes its toll.


Last year I said enough.

No more.

I finally released her.


Perhaps apart she will grow.

Maybe even one day she might call and ask me to be hers.

I have never believe her marriage would last, though I

always wished her the best and gave her my blessing.


I even attended the ceremony and sang at the reception.

She hugged me afterwards and said, ďYou will always

be dear to my heart.Ē


Her husband seems more obscure than her.

I cannot imagine her playing obscurity games a lifetime.


A year has passed.

No letters.
No calls.
No birthday cards.

No hugs, walks, or tennis games.


On occasion I think of her, and in my mindís eye

I see her warm smile and kind haunting eyes.

Those enigmatic eyes that always probed me so sweetly,

so intensely.


Why arenít we together a voice in my mind asks.
But this time I donít even ask why.