Lugh’s Garden

Tell me once again,
That you still welcome my love,
That it means something
To hold my heart in your heart,
And my soul within your soul.

Tell me once again,
That I bring joy to your life,
That the things I do
Still touch something within you,
Something that still makes you smile.

Tell me once again,
How your caress will warm me,
Your kisses thrill me,
As you hold me close enough
For our hearts to beat as one.

Or tell me that my
Love is a forgotten dream,
Dissolved in the mist,
Melted into the new day,
That you have chosen to live.

Tell me if you can,
That my love is not in vain,
That my constant wish
To hear you say, I love you,
Is not wasted, once again.

Love notes and flowers,
Passing back and forth
In the ether,
Not a lot to hold on to,
But so, so much better than
Nothing.

Dreams become my reality,
Floating between wakefulness, and
Sleep,
Savoring the sensation of that
Last touch, that
Last kiss.
Knowing the dream will be
All I get in this life.
I fear dying, not for the death,
But for a need to hold on,
So we can start our next life
Together.

Mountains, rivers, miles, and years,
Encompassed by a love
That knows no boundaries,
A love that ignores,
All that keeps it confined to
Love notes, and flowers.

It’s odd, isn’t it,
How two minds connect,
Across time and space?
Even when no words are spoken,
Even when eyes have never met,
Hearts and minds entwine.

It’s odd, isn’t it,
How you know what I want,
Before I even want it,
How you feel the need
Growing inside of me,
And answer that desire?

It’s even odder still,
How the little things we do,
Touch each other’s lives,
In ways, sometimes gentle,
Sometimes with a rush of passion,
Like a climax you didn’t see coming.

No, perhaps it isn’t odd,
Perhaps it should be expected,
When two minds share one soul,
And two hearts, filled to
Overflowing, with love,
Find peace within that soul.

I have never touched your face,
Nor gazed into your eyes,
But I will hold you in my heart,
Until my life fire dies.
Ours is not a mortal love,
Dependant on a kiss,
Nor, do we love conveniently,
It’s so much more than this.

I never chose to love you,
And you did not choose me,
Our souls searched for each other,
To set each other free.
You will always have those loves,
That grow, and fade away,
But I will have that part of you,
Which in my heart, will stay.

I may never touch your face,
Your eyes, I may not see,
But you will always have my soul,
Until you set it free.

It was the scent of roses,
A shiny bit of stone,
And the soft folds of fabric,
That kept me hanging on,
Long beyond the point
I knew the loss was real.

Beyond the day I knew I was
A memory, fondly held, perhaps,
But still, more a part of the past,
Than the future, I started my days
With expectation, with hope,
Touching a stone, for luck.

Old men believe in luck,
And in magic, it keeps them
From seeing their place in time.
It dulls the pain of knowing
The rest of their bridges
Will be crossed in darkness, alone.

It doesn’t hurt so much, anymore.
The images beneath the lamps
Are just shadows,
The mist has closed in
Around the bridges,
But the scent of roses, lingers on.