"July 4th— Not the
rocket's red glare. Goodbye."
I'll take a little
more time next time
not to extend
so much
emotion;
I'll try a little
harder to
pretend
not to be so
overcome.
"But where love is concerned
there's no guarantee"
—he's borne a mark
been touched by
lightining—
I held you
in my arms,
kissed gently
your sweet body
—and I'll always
wonder why
you never let
me love you.
You've been
where I am
before.
"Can we share this dream?"
uncertainly asked,
"I'm sorry, we can't now,"
that fearful line.
and as you turned
the silence stretched out
between us
like the fog
across the New York bay.
Kiss me one more time
before you go
so I can let you
have it—sweetheart,
let you really know
how much I love you,
and how much I care.
