The Film Of Love Poem by Kevin East

To those who have heard the Cuckoo
Before I.
Or remembered
The lights on the lake.
Whose tears have fallen away from the crowd.
And their golden thoughts escaped unwet
From the silver rain.
To those who have danced
In the garden of paradise
Where feelings grow.
With a dream lover
Naked as a flame.
Realising
Everyday.
It is
Beauty making love to beauty.
The film of love.

Like that passing embrace of a stranger.
Sweet notes you will never hear again,
Drifting through your orchestra.
Kissing your heart
With pain.
In and out of emotional corridors.
Each leading to a dream,
That rises with final plume
Of goodbyes.
With gleam,
Like flashing of sword.
Remember
It was beautiful and unreal.
The film of love.

It would never do,
Like a thousand poets
To paint the wind.
Dream,
With that silent moon.
And a thundering heart.
But never try to understand
That magician,
Emotional wizardry.
Born of just a sigh.
Then,
One random word
Fused our unspoken light
Of understanding.
And we were left
In the dark.
Apart.
Our performance
Was so real, with heart.
Yet, nobody now is applauding.
As curtain falls.
On our empty stage.
I can't touch what I feel.
And I age.
It's so surreal.
The film of love.