Saturday, February 16, 2008

I Don’t Expect You Soon to Love Me
I don’t expect you soon to love me,
Nor are my own feelings clear.
Passion is the ornate entrance
to a world we crave and fear.
We cannot know where this will take us,
Nor whether we will ride for long,
But pleasure is the overture
That flows into the larger song.
So come with me with open mind
And heart, and we the time will prove
With laughter and with joy unfettered,
And, perhaps, someday with love.
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I Miss You Though I Have You Here beside Me

 

I miss you though I have you here beside me.
Blood can flow before the wound appears.
Imagination, painful now, will guide me
through the coming hard and lonely years.
I find it hard to face our separation,
Feeling in advance the wrenching pain,
Imagining the years of desolation
Until we are together once again.
Yet that same imaginary power
will bring to us beforehand all the joy
that, dreamed of in some isolated hour,
our sad and lonely weariness will buoy.
Thus though I suffer more while you are near,
I’ll suffer less when you’re no longer here.

 

 

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