Tuesday, February 13, 2007


A melody winds through my heart,
and does not stop.
Though love has not appeared
in quotidian form, it is here,
oh it is in my heart, and
once given cannot be returned.
That is the way of love.

My love is a foolish thing,
And my love is very wise,
A risk and a gamble,
tossed and turned every which way
I taste all the emotions,
sweet and bitter, light and dark,
and it is all love, ah.
That is the way of love.

I have regrets and I have none,
I am happy and I am sad,
I rage and I accept, I am
a woman with all the follies thereof.
And so my heart is full,
even as I have given it away.
That is the way of love.


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