In the days

In the days
When I knew love by your name
And sharing a pillow was wondrous
People watched us with scornful doubt
Because one day reality would come home
And we would be like them

 

In the days
When I knew you as my lover
And we learned to be as one
People viewed us with apprehension
Because surely we confused love with passion
And one day we would have neither

 

In the days
When I knew you as my wife
And we had no options except to love
People watched us with curiosity
Because love is supposed to change with time
And you were still my lover and love had your name

Reviews

[Ravyne Hawke]

Such a beautiful love poem.. unfortunately there are always doubters who would rather foretell the ending of a relationship than to give praise for it. It's a good thing you never listened to the doubters but to the heart of your beloved.

[DrD]

Thank you, Lori. I appreciate your visit.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good poem. Memory and regret are constant lessons for us. I like the story in each set of lines. Old age had made the old pain seem less. Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
Coyote

[DrD]

Your words mean much to me, Coyote and I deeply appreciate your visit.

[David Scott]

Dr.D my friend. You break my heart so often. This poem renders my mind soft and my emotions thin.
We all want to love and be loved in the way you described in such a tangible and yet tangential way in your write.
to have such a precious gift and then feel the absence of it is worse than longing for something you have never known.
How many have their loved one's with them and have lost the love while they yet live?
How many waste days of precious breath refusing to take the steps needed call their love by name.
Your love is not by accident. You made a choice to give love "her" name. As did she, if your story is to be believed. I do believe you.

"Scornful" mindsets are found when people lose hope... not because they understand reality better.

"surely we confused love and passion"... Love is not passion, and passion is not love, yet when we love perfectly and we will be passionate about the one's we love. When our passion is to serve another, the passion will build that love as well. The most mature move will always be passionate love, or the use of the word love is like calling a corpse person.

I am thankful you have been blessed to know this love and passion and you can share it with the world in your writing David. You have not lost you love or your passion when you can write like this. When you see her again, she will be proud you did not loose your capacity for both while you a briefly apart.

You have my admiration and respect. I will strive not to be envious. Ha. ;)

[DrD]

David, as always, you are most kind in your comments and I am humbled by them. I was out of the country for three days, thus the delayed response. Thank you again, my friend.

[Acucena G.]

Great poem

[Claire Twinn]

A sweet love poem, enduring love is so much more precious than a fleeting passion.