Beloved, I know I can never understand,
but I need you to know that I WANT to understand.
THIS is what you mean to my heart: " Loved By A Woman."
Blank-verse, with the meter of my true heart:
No man knows Love as rests in a woman's heart,
for what in him is a fever, torment, and drive,
to woman is a discrete, unwavering flame,
unendingly fed by her force that nourishes Life.
She gently assays the fortunes of her heart,
investing well in best and lasting and true,
beyond mere passions, and far above desires
to guard Love's spirit on its cautious trek.
She may deny the presence of this urge
but not disguise its deep effects and mien,
for, running deeply all throughout her soul,
there is a light and heat; the fevence of her sun.
Man may avoid the thorn, but seeks the rose
to claim its scent, its petals, and its bloom
as trophy, though he does love true enough:
it satisfies the world that he loves the flower.
But clenching at Love's stem, he's a tourniquet
preventing Love's free-flowing nourishment
from eking to the tendril-vein in leaf,
subduing Love's aroma while in his quest.
Yet woman feels much deeper than his soul,
and shelters her own heart within his own,
where lies her nest of heart-borne light, truth, love,
where she is loveliest, kindest, truest: Pure.
Let life rush past, let time wind on and out,
yet one smile take and seal our lips in kiss
against all other oaths but this:
" Friendship is the Mistress of saints and souls! "
Our tombs may lie off-hidden from this world,
but Love lives, reaching for ever and a day.
Soft doves will find our places, and to us coo,
as long as there are doves, and love-words true.
Love is the Victor 'though Death reigned for its while,
and Love once more will bring to earth anew,
Her love, when new loves meet, and vow as one,
'mid the everlasting garden of gentle Love.
We have no epitaph, no graven lines
commemorating Life as it was ours.
What still exists beyond mere mortal coil
will ever last; the ever-green of Friends.
(an original, by TEDDYx with TEARx ©201d
