Heaven is Love; Love is golden Paradise,
But love can be unkind; love at times plays dice
With lovers’ hearts, and then one lover pays the price. I fell in love with his laughter; I loved all the lies
I thought his blue eyes told me; I didn’t realize
It was love I fell in love with, and to my surprise,
When one falls in love with love, then love sometimes dies. I thought I’d love forever, for down through the years, Through all of my laughter, and through all my tears, I’ve remembered his gold laughter, and his gentle touch, The way his blue eyes smiled, and the thrilling clutch Of his hand holding mine, and the feel of wet sand
Beneath our bare feet, as through waves we walked ankle deep; The lips I stole a kiss from, and the blessed bliss
When his lips clung in return, and how we talked
Of ever-after; but his bubbling, golden laughter
Died away; I was in love with love, you see,
And love like that’s elusive. His love was not for me, Nor mine for him; in love with love was not to be.
Dante loved a life-time, and in my own dreams
I dreamed of a Beatrice (though male) it lately seems, But the true aim and ambition in my life
Was not to be a lover, or a devoted wife,
But to be a writer of heart-broken songs of love
That soared up to heaven and moved the stars above, Claiming my love was constant, claiming my love was true, That swore my love forever, yet forever new.
In my fashion I was true to him; my songs
Were only for him, and when nights were long
I lay awake and longed to be held in his arms,
Longed to hear his laughter, sighed for his boyish charms, But while I was dreaming of a Golden Boy so fair,
He was growing older and his golden hair
Was growing whiter. Now the laughter isn’t there. His face is stern; the soft, sweet mouth is hard and thin, Though his voice is as gentle as it’s always been.
He’s grown to be a man now, not a playful boy,
And the dreams I’ve been dreaming are of youthful joy, Of a kiss I stole, and of a night of wild desire,
When bodies clung together and our blood was on fire. Love lasts a life-time only when passion’s spent,
But memories still linger, though you are old and bent. It’s shattering my Golden Angel can’t recall The things we did together that to me were all I ever dreamed of. I have lived the part Of a lover stricken with a broken heart.
Still I don’t regret as wasted what is past,
Or dismiss the star I followed as a sad mistake, Though I want to change the world and yet it seems He doesn’t even want to chase his youthful dreams. Our difference drew me to him. I reached for a star; He reached for a scalpel; that’s how far apart we are.
My lover was an instrument, a liquid golden harp On which I played my music the way he strummed my heart. The laugh I fell in love with, the wild, exuberant joy, Was the natural accompaniment to his being a boy. The man grown from the boy can only be a friend. This one-sided love affair has finally come to end. I understand at last the things about him that I love Are what I need to be. The man I’m dreaming of, I don’t need to possess; I just need to be like him – More gentle and pragmatic, less capricious to each whim.
I fell in love with love. I still love love, it’s plain, And I hope and pray that sometime I may love again. I still have songs to sing and poetry to write Before I rage ungently into that goodnight.