Perhaps the single most wonderful experience, which this lifetime can afford us, is the opportunity for falling into Love. For many, love comes easy; while for others the path grows thorns… still others search a lifetime without finding it at all. I have been blessed to have had many loves in this lifetime and though my hair is now turning grey and my body struggles with every movement… I still desire to be a lover, and to be loved.
I remember yet my first love, a girl I knew as Sue. She had just rescued me from being bitten by her giant Saint Bernard. I had taken the shortcut through her yard on many occasions and on each occasion her dog would come charging at me. Of course he was chained and would have to stop just short of the pathway.
Unaware that a new longer chain had been purchased, my confident stride came to an abrupt halt when suddenly I felt the dogs jaws clamped tightly around my leg. I called for Sue and she yelled his name and immediately he let go… but I swear I heard him chuckling as he returned to his post.
Seeing that I was a bit shaken, she began wiping his saliva from my pants with the towel she held in her hand and I could feel my knees grow wobbly from the gentleness in her touch. We were both ten years old and had our parents allowed; I would have married her right there and then… but time would pass and, as often goes, my love began to fade… and now she’s nothing more than a memory on some earmarked page of life.
MY LOVER’S LOVE
I hesitate to say this,
for not all will understand,
but I’ve known a thousand lovers,
since the fire first began.
Their gender, age, and color,
never mattered much to me,
it was always in the moment,
that our love would come to be.
But in time the flames would falter,
as fires always do,
for passion cannot feed itself,
the lover it consumes.
The flames died out some time ago,
I don’t remember where or when,
so I‘ve been coasting on the memories,
hoping just to reach the end.
But something strange is happening,
some might say I’ve lost my mind,
for I feel a fire burning,
but it seems a different kind.
My bed no more is empty,
for I lay at my Lover’s side,
and when morning’s light has broken,
I no longer try to hide.
For the flames that once consumed me,
are now beginning to refine,
and that person I’d forgotten,
I now desire to be mine.
I am the Lover of my Love…
My Lover’s Love am I.