Kenneth O. McMillan jr.
Who's to say? What is love?
Perhaps for a time I loved her, perhaps I love her still.
Perhaps when a man has held a woman in his arms,
There is a little of her with him forever,
Who's is to say?
A ruined castle, an ancient garden, a moon rising over a fountain, love comes easy at such a time,
Perhaps we loved each other then;
Perhaps we do not love each other now, but we each
have a memory.
Love is a moment of stillness, that sometimes a
word can shatter to fragments,
Or love can be a thing that endures, a rich deep current that flows unending down the years.
I do not think one should demand that love be forever,
Perhaps it is better that it not be forever,
How can one answer, for more than the moment?
Who knows what strange tides may sweep us away?
What depths there may be or twists and turns?
Each life sails a separate course,
Although sometimes; and this is the best of time,
Two lives may move along together until the
end of time.
Listen to the music out there,
Is the song less beautiful, because it has an end?
I believe each of us wishes to find the song that doesn't end, but for me that time is not now.
You see, I spread wide my arms I have nothing,
I have no home, no land, no position, I am empty.
I would owe no debts to destiny for you and me.
Today is all we have, Tomorrow is a mirage,
that may become reality.
Copyright by:
Kenneth O. McMillan jr.
