A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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FOOTPRINTS ON MY HEART
I fall in love too easily, it seems;
And I make no apologies for this,
For I would rather make a few mistakes
Than think of all the chances I have missed.
My heart is often swept away by dreams.
My eyes will notice any backward glance.
The game of love is played by many fakes
Who only want to get inside my pants.
But there are some who reach inside my soul,
Who take the time to find out where I’ve been,
Who love me now, and will when I am old,
And if they never see my face again,
They live within me; we are not apart,
For they have left their footprints on my heart.
Canton, New York, 2000
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