A poor wingless bee in dire torment
Sat brooding beneath the lemon bower:
"How shall I ever know the rose's scent,
And sample the sweet nectar of her flower?"

"And what value do you place on these?"
Asked a wise old bee perched on a stone;
Suddenly there appeared a swarm of bees,
Eager to hear the wisdom of the drone

Cried the wingless bee: "My days are drear,
Longing for the rose's scented dew;
Without wings how can I hope to draw near?
How I thirst for her . . . if only she knew!"

"Climb, my lad," advised the wise old bee.
"Brave the stinging thorns and twisted vine.
Only through courage and tenacity
Will you savor the bliss of her sweet wine"

O, what angst now stirred within the bee
As he scaled that stem toward the sublime!
But what delicious hospitality
Awaited him . . . because he dared to climb!

I put my mind at ease,
     banishing all things vile,
What good are memories
     that don't inspire a smile?

But now and then my heart
     forgets to lock the door,
And when the portals part,
     he's standing there once more

Of course, I can't deny
     him entry --- I'm too weak,
And yes, I know I'll cry
     with every lie he'll speak

It seems I never learned
     to let go of his hand,
Not all bridges were burned,
      love's flame might yet be fanned

O, foolish heart of mine,
     the truth is plain to see:
When love makes one resign
      itself to misery,
And every sleepless night
      is caused by love's deceit,
Can you ignore the Light
      of Truth there at your feet?

The time is long past due
      to set his memory free,
Let love's promise renew,
      let all sad feelings flee

Prepare the burial shroud,
      ensure the grave is deep,
Grieve one last time aloud . . .
     Now let the demons sleep!

I dreamed tears were flowing from my heart's core,
And my head was bowed low in prayer,
An angel appeared, saying "Weep no more,
Come and find relief from your despair."
Smiling, he pointed to a golden door . .
So I entered,  but no one was there

Then I found myself seated 'neath a tree
Staring up at a cloud-filled sky;
I pondered mankind's state of misery,
And I couldn't help but question "Why?"
And that angel just stood there silently,
With an expression that made me cry

As if this were not enough pain to bear,
I found myself on paths well trod --
One marked Loneliness, the other Despair,
While Fate scowled with an approving nod;
(Better to blame Fate than unanswered prayer
And all the failed responses from God)

Attempting to wake myself from this dream,
From my lips there escaped a moan.
Then the angel said "Praised be the Supreme,
To whom all man's miseries are known"
And all heaven bowed (which seemed quite extreme
Since no one was seated on the throne)

As in most dreams nothing was making sense ---
Prayers drifting on a murky stream,
Frustration and doubt growing more intense.
"Lord, show thyself," I cried with a scream.
But the angel warned "Seek no evidence!"
And I realized  . . .  this was no dream

My body is frail . . . I'm growing old,
Each step is accompanied by groans;
My hands and feet are constantly cold . . .
But my heart aches much more than my bones

I squint when I witness dawn's first light
When all of nature in gold is trimmed;
My eyes are no longer clear and bright,
But the flame of love has never dimmed

Time has taken its toll on this frame,
The roseate glow has left my face;
All those youthful passions have grown tame,
Yet, I'd still welcome a warm embrace

More important now are simpler things --
Like companionship and loving smiles,
All the joy that togetherness brings,
Someone with whom I can share life's trials

It's a bit late to make long-term plans,
So I'll settle for a hand to hold,
And a lonely man who understands
The blessings of love as we grow old

Where, O where are the men of passion,
Men whose eyes reflect anguish unbound,
Silver-haired men, their faces ashen,
Searching in vain for love never found?

Men who'll dare to cast a hopeful smile
Toward an alluring face in the crowd,
As dark memories of deceit and guile
Float away like a wind-driven cloud

Are there still men who would weave their tears
Into a poetic tapestry?
Men who express hopelessness and fears
In a voice that cries out silently?

Where are the men who cower in the dark,
Tired of their eternal solitude,
Praying for that one transcendent spark
So their faith in love might be renewed

Where are the men who'll take one more chance
To know love's forbidden ecstasy?
Where are the men who can't forsake romance?
If you know one, kindly send him to me

So God took a rib from Adam
And thus woman was created.
Could this be actual datum,
Or myth, highly overrated?

Through life man flounders (blamelessly)
When there's no woman at his side;
And a woman walks aimlessly
Until her mate's identified

I don't care how I came to be --
By grand hoax, or just a small fib.
But I can say with certainty
Being alone's not my cup of tea;
Somewhere, someone's looking for me --
Some poor Adam's  missing his rib!

Though I love you, I am not blind
To your faults, but I let them pass;
I find contentment in your garden,
Though a few weeds grow among the grass

I was not blind when the blight came
To our orchard, rotting the fruits;
Yet, our tree grew stronger than before,
For deep and unblemished were the roots

Love is not blind . . . how clearly I see
The beauty of your heart and your soul,
So I choose not to sort good from bad,
But view your love as the perfect whole

Love is too precious to analyze ---
If we're blessed with love, let us give praise
While overlooking our loved one's faults,
Judging not their flaws in measured ways

In a secret chamber of your heart
Let the flame of forgiveness burn bright.
What joy seeing love's tender buds unfold
As the bitter memories take flight!

And so I believe love is not blind,
Though at times it has to make a choice
To close its eyes, pretend not to see,
And be guided by its inner voice