Wild with joy we outstretch eager hands,
Reaching for those first sweet buds of Spring,
Only to find thorns amidst the blooms,
Startling us with a most painful sting.
But it's just Life's way of teaching us
That happiness is a fleeting thing

But never stop dreaming and hoping,
Nor allow your heart to become callous,
For when happiness knocks at the door
How soon we forget Fortune's malice.
And when happiness wears Love's disguise,
Whose lips would not sip from Love's chalice?

Happiness flits and darts through our lives
Erratic as a bird on the wing,
Fragile as a snowball in the dawn
Of a sudden sultry morn in Spring.
Just a brief reprieve from misery,
Happiness is but a fleeting thing

Love's ecstasy flew on gilded wings  
To this heart laden with woe;  
Like the buds of Spring my dreams unfurled . . .  
And then Fate dealt its cruel blow.
Now I walk that lonely path again,  
But I'll forget him . . . just don't ask when  

How does a shattered heart find its way,
Deprived of its guiding star?
How long will it take before it heals?
Do wounds this deep leave a scar?
Though my world is crumbling 'round me now,
I must carry on . . . just don't ask how

Trying to hush echoes of the past,
Alone I bitterly weep;
I've climbed the Hill of Sorrows before  . . .
But it's never been this steep!
Each day dark clouds are filling my sky,
And yet, I still hope . . . just don't ask why

But should abandoned hearts dare to hope
Lost love will return again?
Last night as I prayed I thought I heard
Crying angels sighing Amen;
Now I bravely flaunt this smiling mask,
But do I still miss him? . . . Please, don't ask!

Having been born in Nineteen hundred forty-four,
Some say (and rightly so) I'm from "the days of yore;"
Wars were being fought, and the whole world seemed deranged,
Though many years have passed, the world's course has not changed;
But I know I have changed -- now with faltering sight
I search in vain for the dreams that never took flight

I was young once and focused on my golden dreams
Of romance, love, adventure . . . the very same themes
That you dream about, I still dream at this late stage --
So I know how you feel . . . we're on the same page;
Throughout life we reach for the brass ring, but at length
We have to admit we no longer have the strength

I understand now why back then old folks would speak
Of how "the spirit's willing, but the flesh is weak;"
And I yearn for the dawn of my life's yesterday
To once again pursue those dreams that went astray;
But the winds of Time are whispering a simple truth:
It's too late for me now . . . the spoils belong to youth

The gloom of solitude fills my mind
With images unbeknownst to me:
Someone's loving arms with mine are twined. . .
And yet I know no such entity

Pausing to admire the meadow rue
My love and I share a brief caress;
O, the loving moments that ensue . . .
But when have I known such happiness?

Wintry nights find me in total bliss . . .
Making love before a blazing fire;
(Just as sure as logs sputter and hiss,
This is but a glimpse of wild desire)

From where do these taunting portraits come?
The mind's workings are not always wise.
But should the starved heart not take the crumb
That would save it from tragic demise?

It's been a while since Love came to call,
O, to hear its footsteps just once more!
So I've asked the moon to shine brighter
On the pathway leading to my door

But the moon told me Love needs no light --
Down the darkest paths it finds its way,
For Love itself is the light that guides
Wandering feet that at times tend to stray

O, sagacious moon, you've earned your crown!
Guardian of the melancholy hour;
Can you tell me why Love hesitates
To unchain me from this lonely tower?  

Has my heart been deemed an unfit host?
Absurd! Warmth and tenderness abound!
Chambers exude tolerance and peace . . .
Where might a more perfect nest be found?

An old weeping willow keeps its watch,
Straining to hear Love's knock at my door;
And it weeps with me throughout the day --
But when night falls, I cry so much more

No birds violate the evening's calm --
They've no reason to burst forth in song;
Filled with pity, they hear my laments,
Chiding Love for tarrying too long

I draw comfort now from memories,
Memories that time cannot erase;
But Hope's candle flaunts a radiant flame,
Just in case Love's listening  . . .  just in case

Such loneliness permeates my days,
No one seems to notice I exist;
I'm as transparent as the sun's first rays
Intermingling with the morning mist

I'm as obscure as a grain of sand
Clinging to the ocean's lonely shore;
Should a wild wind fling me to some strange land,
Who would notice that I'm here no more?

Has my frame decayed and turned to dust
And my restless spirit unaware
That I'm just a ghost tumbling in a gust
Of the pitiful wind of despair?

Too long I've haunted this lonely sphere
Where it seems no one's aware of me;
Let there be a soft whispering in my ear:
"Claim your peace, dear soul, you've been set free"

And how eager I'd be to depart
From this cruel world I've come to deplore!
Yet, if love would lay its hands on my heart . . .
I'd consider staying a few years more

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

Walking alone
on life's shoreline
I owned the sea
in my mind--

the tides in rhythm
the swelling, the ebbing
the sighing, the moaning
while my heart is weeping