This is not a plea for sympathy, truly.  It's just that I'm reading a delightful book filled with delightful love, and I miss my own experience.  But at least I had it.


Broken Valentine
Virginia Salter

I’m reading of love that’s deep
enhanced with spoon-fashioned sleep
as into night hearts do creep
and all I do is weep
for my days of having done
have evolved to no more than none.

It would not be such pain for me
had I not had such ecstasy,
yet, now I’ve fully been set free
from the bonds that bring one glee
even though I’d not want to be
cast into this rolling sea.

But I truly must confess
I would take those hours of bless
when to my love I wholly pressed
and to which cannot regress
for the time is closed to me
as I live this melancholy plea.

© February  6,  2001