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A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
FORMS OF LOVE
People see us every day
And ask if we are lovers.
I never know quite what to say.
We surely love each other,
For there are many forms of love,
As ancient people knew,
But modern man knows nothing of
The love I have for you.
Some dream of romantic love,
The fantasy of youth,
An entertaining fairy tale
Without a grain of truth;
Hearts and flowers, stars above,
Mystery and magic.
When the blush of love grows pale,
The parting can be tragic.
Others want erotic love,
The pleasures of the flesh.
They like to call it making love
Whenever they have sex.
When things are not what they are called
It causes much confusion.
This is not really love at all,
But merely a delusion.
For you I have platonic love.
‘Tis you I most admire.
This is the purest form of love
To which we can aspire.
Pursuing all the highest goals,
A kinship of the spirit.
You have touched my very soul;
Most come nowhere near it.
Saranac Lake, New York, 1997
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