How pleasant it is to sit and dream
While evening clouds paint the western sky . . .
Before I could tell my harebrained scheme
To the setting sun, it waved good-bye

If I may I'll share my plan with you:
Since all hopes and dreams of love lie spent,
Now and then I'll write a poem or two
Relating memoirs that I'll invent

What jealous passions might I provoke
From the wretched souls that only know
Loneliness, unaware of the joke
That I'm playing to hide my own woe

Wait until they read of my wild nights,
Strutting with a suitor on each arm,
Painting the town red.  These vile delights
Will bring gasps and be cause for alarm

Then there'll be the poems of quiet hours
When love's very essence lays its hand
On my heart like dew upon the flowers.
How the flames of envy will be fanned!

But here I sit, while the midnight stroke
Brings tears of loneliness to my eyes;
What fantasies my poems may evoke!
(But you and I know they're only lies)

Today a melody caught my ear
That enraptured my very soul;
I heard a duet being performed
By a lark and an oriole

A gnarly branch made a fitting stage
For their theatre high in the tree,
While a backdrop of blossoms and clouds
Left the audience in ecstasy

What was it about their rhapsody
That encouraged my heart to dance?
So mesmerized by their dulcet tones,
I stood there as if in a trance

My thoughts drifted to happier times . . .
The nights my darling sang to me;
Every refrain that flowed from his lips
Echoed a lovers' symphony

But then the music started to fade,
Softer it grew till silence fell;
Now only the wind sings in the trees,
And at night it tolls Love's death knell

But today the lark and oriole
Enchanted me with their sweet song;
Though there's unrest in my solitude,
I found comfort in the feathered throng

For these fitful nights, love must bear the blame --
But is sleeplessness not part of love's game?
What's left but to entreat the heedless air?
(That useless prattle, also known as prayer)

A heart that's plagued with unspeakable pain
Will cry out to Heaven, time and again.
What recourse have I, teetering on the edge,
With no one to talk me down from the ledge?

Loneliness becomes a nightmarish realm
Where I drift alone . . . no one at the helm;
Then Hope throws the line that pulls me ashore
And rescues me from despair's tidal bore

At times I tire of Hope's uplifted eyes,
And its surfeit of well-intentioned lies;
More than once I've been tempted to ignore
The shining outlook Hope brings to my door

But Hope never mocks my relentless quest
For love, but fans its embers in my breast;
If not for Hope, despair would defeat me,
Bringing dread when the dawn comes to greet me

For when I find bitter thoughts taking hold,
Weakening my will, urging me to fold,
You can bet Hope will  knock upon my door,
And I can't help but answer . . . just once more

The moon stands vigil as the wine prepares
To perform its secret ministry;
Well rehearsed, the sacred nectar obeys,
Raising the floodgates of memory

Love's smoldering ashes start to ignite ---
One more sip, and then the flame's aglow;
Intoxicating specters flood the room --
O, what sorcery . . . let the wine flow!

Hands that deliver torment with each touch
Guide me slowly into heaven's arms;
Passion flares, and as our lips combine
I yield to the wine's spellbinding charms

So the hours pass in shameless ecstasy
In the darkened nooks of Memory's Hall;
But the wine is dwindling  . . . it's almost gone,
Soon reality's curtain must fall

And dawn arrives spewing its harsh advice:
Abandon this trickery of the wine!
But dusk will bear witness to my heart's plea:
Sweet libation, make this night divine!

And so this strange ritual has sustained me
Through many godforsaken Decembers;
But should Time erode flakes of memory,
I'll not worry . . . the wine remembers

Ask, if you will, for my hand to hold
As the day withdraws its golden light;
And no, I will not think you too bold
Should you ask me to stay through the night

If it is a song you need to hear
To help put your restless mind at ease,
I shall place my lips close to your ear
And hum softly in angelic keys

When seeds of despair become full blown,
Together you and I will tame them;
My strength and loyalty are yours to own --
You need only reach out to claim them

I would let my blood course through your veins,
And my breath in your chest rise and fall;
Any strategy that yet remains
Shall be rendered at your beck and call

Love spares nothing, but must give the whole
Of its being to impart its sweet bliss;    
So my heart, my life, my very soul
Are yours . . . but I'll give no more than this!

The time had come to shed this loathsome cloak
Of life's failures, defeats and decay;
I knew, without further contemplation,
I had to give the wretched thing away

How appealing the oyster's existence --
Safely sheltered in its little shell;
And when life sends its messengers of doom,
He can just tell them to go to hell

You may think me crazy, but that's okay,  
I had to retreat behind these doors;  
If I had not created my own world,  
Long ago I would have died in yours

My tears greet each unwelcome day,
Blurring the sun's first golden ray.
While dead dreams submit to decay,
Hopelessness binds my heart like a glove.
And you bear the blame, capricious Love!

At times you draw near just to tease,
Torturing me by slow degrees,
Leaving my poor heart ill at ease,
Till tears are all I'm capable of.
What anguish you cause me, shameless Love!

You take delight, or so it seems,
Shattering my most precious dreams,
Leaving me to wade sorrow's streams.
Never will you soar with the pure dove ---
Tarnished are your wings, deceitful Love!

Fickle Love,  God's laws you defile
With your demons of falsehood and guile;
Send those cursed flaws into exile!
Grant all lovers what their hearts dream of:
Your cherished counterpart . . . sincere Love

When loneliness whispers too loud,
And despair wraps me in its shroud,
With folded hands and my head bowed
It is then I plead with Heav'n above:
Teach me the words that summon true Love!

Yet, when Love's disguised as a lie,
Who'll dare to renounce it?  Not I!
I'll press on with hope and a sigh,
Giving doubt and common sense a shove.
For Love in all its facets is still Love!