Gentle is the rain that falls upon my window,
Gentle as the sound of your voice.
I hear your words,
a song of peace,
and the quiet whisper of laughter
that rippled into my life.
Gentle is the breeze that floats into my room,
Gentle as you move, with elegant dignity.
I see you now, snow-white skin,
light wisps of hair, soft gray eyes,
your hands, your feet,
so graceful, so controlled,
your smile, spontaneous, tender.
Gentle is the sunlight that steals across the floor,
Gentle as your touch.
I feel your hand,
lightly reaching for mine,
your hushed lips, barely caressing my own,
your warm, existent body lying still in my bed.
Gentle are the shadows that fold into the night,
Gentle as you faded from my world,
drifting out of reach,
out of touch,
for me to know alone my silent tears of love,
and the gentle pain of memory.
Gentle is the rain upon my window....
--9/28/73
I've done it again--
I've let myself love.
Briefly,
deeply,
freely--
and now I hurt!
He still loves me--
they all did--
as a big sister,
or a little sister,
or mother-image, or daughter,
or a would-be mistress--
they flattered me
and pitied me; then,
with a soft pat on my empty head,
they said goodbye.
And I stood alone once more--
as I stand now--
to wait,
to hope
for a dream unfulfilled,
of love that can never be mine,
love that lasts 'til the end of always...
When the hurt heals,
as it will with time,
I will love again,
and hurt again,
each time as bitterly as the last--
Thus my errant heart wanders,
forever and completely alone.
--7/13/73
Today is past,
faded into yesterday,
And tomorrow,
that I hoped would never come,
is here,
and now.
I can no longer run
or hide
from what which I dared not to see.
For dreams have melted
into sober wakefulness
and reality touches my shoulder
with a cold hand.
Today is tomorrow,
the dreaded never-never time,
And I must rise,
to meet the day,
to stand against the wind,
Or be cast
into
...forever.
--3/17/73
I hurt inside;
A great big hurt that never
quite goes away.
Sometimes I hardly notice it,
Mostly it is blurry soft,
hidden away,
And I never feel it at all.
But
it is there.
And it stings;
It comes on sharp and deep
and at times nearly
crushes me--
To know that the wound
can never really heal,
that the pain will be there
when the mask is gone.
--2/14/71
Gentle is the rain that falls upon my window, Gentle as the sound of your voice. I hear your words, a song of peace, and the quiet whisper of laughter that rippled into my life. Gentle is the breeze that floats into my room, Gentle as you move, with elegant dignity. I see you now, snow-white skin, light wisps of hair, soft gray eyes, your hands, your feet, so graceful, so controlled, your smile, spontaneous, tender. Gentle is the sunlight that steals across the floor, Gentle as your touch. I feel your hand, lightly reaching for mine, your hushed lips, barely caressing my own, your warm, existent body lying still in my bed. Gentle are the shadows that fold into the night, Gentle as you faded from my world, drifting out of reach, out of touch, for me to know alone my silent tears of love, and the gentle pain of memory. Gentle is the rain upon my window.... --9/28/73
