http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/sexandhistory
http://www.youtube.com/StanleyPacion
YOUNG LOVE,
It Drifts Away, Edited
Mask of youth, and its costume still upon you,
When we had met, year-9/11,
It marked the city forever,
Downtown burned, towers had fallen, and all the dead,
Though today seems hard to believe,
The smell dominated the air,
Yet there at last days of December, it was,
All the way to West 26th Street,
A bad omen, I guess.
You were different then, more girl
Than the grown woman you are today.
I remember that first Christmas Eve,
And how you had bought silver jewelry,
I was at market and you stood before the showcase,
Studied the pieces, awaited me to make the move
And price to drop, bargained without word,
Used patience as your tool, you figured,
I was in a hurry, wanted to get home.
It seems halcyon, when I look back,
When I picture you, recall your eyes
Expectant, be-all, the end-all,
Tomorrow’s promise, stayed awesome and bright,
I want to say, etched,
But no lines, at that time visited your face.
You were different then, more girl
Than the grown woman you are today.
And you seemed happy, light upon your feet,
I judge your back had not come to bother you yet,
And you had hopes for a child,
Maybe you wished the start to family,
Saw for yourself a real, happy ending, hey?
My defenses were still intact,
No idea you would play, lead in dream wish,
Whose title read, cherished above all others,
That when I fell within the sphere of your limbs,
I would start believing,
Make it an apostle’s creed, a matter of faith
Though love is only a feeling, it drifts away.
All good sense and sensibility abandoned, I was yours,
The pleasure of your company engulfed me,
And once I placed my hand upon your knee,
Oh heart beat, beating fast, lasting long, day after day,
Together, no matter what I might have done,
However I might have conspired to end it.
You said you would love me, now and forever,
I know it’s trite, nothing I should write,
Unworthy of poetry, your promise,
Yeah, until the end of time, and you,
Today I feel as if, you had purposefully taunted me,
You laughed at notion, desire might ever wane,
Though love is only a feeling,
You swore ours here to stay.
Anyone who seeks,
Fervidly wants dream come true,
Gets the sense of what I am saying, knows
The terrible desire, that were it possible,
A replay of yesterday’s grassy splendor,
To enjoy again the glory in the flower,
Despite the rapid descent, the finality marking,
Every bit of human radiance and beauty,
No matter how grand, ambitious the effort,
-- Isn’t it already written? --
The rainbow comes and goes,
Some where out at space time’s edge,
Gamma ray bursts post daily funerary notice,
Yea! How impossible to variegate the end,
Great bright light, then extermination!
And for us, for you and me, it’s same story,
Agony to cling to silly notions, and hold them right,
When the telephone is off the hook,
And all the doors are shut.
World knows, love, only a feeling,
It drifts away, and, I, fool, believed, I believed,
I thought at odds, forgot the foreboding,
Paid no heed to events,
The lasting heritage, that first December,
Sure we were masters of our affection,
Our land, the land called Eden,
Positive we had won, and continued the delusion
That, and as you had said, ours was special,
And contrary to every dictate of reason,
I had come to believe we had found it,
Love here to stay, bright sun, morning after morning,
Endless awakening, fresh flowers everyday,
A bed with gorgeous sheets and pillows fluffed,
Despite love, it being only a feeling,
Like the youth, we at one time owned, and
Had been our possession, it drifts away.
