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If love is the term for what I am feeling,
Then it's too low a word for what I know;
For when in my soft smiling thoughts you glow,
You are the bloom of morning, the star of evening.

Like the lotus that blooms to greet the Sun,
So does my heart beat to greet your heat;
You are the Moon for which my tides beat;
So here blossoms a season of love in the run.

Perhaps I find in your eyes a starry night
Or perhaps an ocean, a sea dipped in emotion,
In which I may reflect, float and swim in seduction
Or may, in that night, delight in flight.

Your smile rises a Sun on my face;
Perhaps that causes your cheeks to bloom roses.
As a returning rose, my heart in itself dresses
And I, toward you, pace with an unmoved gaze.

You flew into my life as a messenger dove,
Blowing into me emotions intense with a message dense
That love is beyond words and human resistance;
I ask you this, my dove, do satisfy my love.
Don't cry, this kiss is a kiss goodbye.
Don't cling, it's time to part.
Don't look at me nor ask me why
I've taken back my heart.

No questioning, no pleading;
No door remains ajar.
No doubt your heart is bleeding
Now, and wounds of love will scar.

Don't hope to ever turn back time,
Nor resurrect the flame
Of what became a pantomime
Of love, in all but name.
© Marcus Lane 2008

— The End —