Love Is A Story

Love is a Story It seems incredible now but once I was in love, inflamed blood rushed thru my veins threatened to drown my heart in sweet delusions, but we both agreed, at the time, that never in the history of man had anyone loved as us. Summer nights are not for sleeping tired I was when October came with cold, sober precipitation and a north westerly that reduced the rapid river of ardour to a mere trickle of lust and my words of love rang hammy and theatrical. Tears, a tub full I’m quite certain had I had sense to bath in them I would have been assured eternal youth. I kicked myself, fled. A fine November dawn I saw Recife; fell in love again, but this time, alas, with an irony damaged heart.