Tag Archives: romantic

You and I

You said you loved, I thought it true, 
Loved me, I heard you say, 
But there was something in your smile,
That cut the warming air with cold,
As we walked among the trees,
Where children played hide and seek,
Content that Spring was here, 
The buds and leaves, the winter gone,
Some thing I could not see,
Until you dropped my hand, and turned,
To tell me, “It’s a lie,”
And as I watched, you walked away,
Past the children in their play,
Down the path we once had walked,
Sharing kisses on the way,
To meet another love, another way,
Whilst I stood in contemplation,
Of who I was, and why,
Then five years on, by some fated chance,
There you were again,
Standing on the platform,
Waiting for the train, in tears,
So asked softly what was wrong,
At which you turned to me,
As though a vision had appeared,
And cried out, “Each long day has made me mad,
 I yearn for you, I long for you,
The other is now just bitterness,
My only love is you,”
But when came the train, she kissed me once,
Then, “Farewell, it's too late to change things now,”
And so I stood, in thought again, 
Thinking, I must have had a dream;
Yet, alone, at night, I hear your voice, 
I feel your kiss, and wonder how you are,
As we walk beneath the trees again,
Our arms entwined, our eyes entranced,
Together, you and I.

Reflections

image-two face entwined

It’s a sharp, cold day in October,

up here in these far-rolling hills,

decked out in fiery colours,

like the coat that Joseph received,

but I’m warmed by longing reflections,

of hot summer days and a girl

who ran to the silvery river,

that flows through the village below,

where for hours we talked,

and for hours we sat,

and for hours our eyes we entwined.

Ah, to remember her beauty,

so gentle, so delicate, so aged,

her mystery now is transmuted,

a rainbow turned into gold,

so all that’s left is the mourning

for the future we lost long ago,

as with wine and tears we remember,

though old, though sad, and though few,

our quest for the love and the longing,

that gives life to the passage of time.

 

Spanish Memory

Spanish memory-image
They met when the snow had fallen,
They met when the ground was white,
Two youths in search of a lover,
Two youths in the moon’s pale light,

She was as fair as Alhambra,
He was surely a northern prince,
These youths who’d found each other,
These youths e’er one e’er since,

They danced and cried to the music,
They burned with the heat of the wine,
Nothing could part such lovers,
Not God, nor man, nor time,

And still the music moves them,
And still they taste the wine,
This girl from the Moorish castle,
This youth of the northern clime,
Entwined in the still sweet darkness,
Entwined in a love sublime.