Dear, dear, dear boy.
Do you know how dear you are?
I’ll tell you, then, and I’ll speak plain –
I shan’t speak like this again –
...
You don’t really know me
You probably never will
But let me tell you just what I think
You and me together
...
Pebbles frozen in place beneath our feet
A smooth, gleaming pathway leading us away
Away down a cool dark river
Water slides across the earth, the flat stones
...
I do not dare give voice to my heart.
If it spoke, all my hopes would be tested against the will of the world
And vulnerable, my dreams would lie before you.
My secret loves and girlish fancies, all my imaginings and wishes
...
The dance floor was filled with glimmering bodies
All wound in blue and golden thread.
Through the glass roof shone the moon
And moonlight across the room was shed.
...
Though crowds surround us
Lights and noise and music,
It is all a dim blur
Wheeling around the still, silent point
...
Who could have guessed that tonight
You would be here beside me
Staring at the same stars
Breathing the same cool air
...
I see your eyes
My soul flutters, flies
Dreams long slumbering arise
Soar into the moonlit skies
...
Is this it, after all?
Is this my fairytale
Which I’ve dreamed of for long?
Are you the knight I’ve searched for
...
In dim yellow lights
We stand together
Hands at sides
But thoughts on the other
...
Dear, Dear, Dear Ben
Dear, dear, dear boy.
Do you know how dear you are?
I’ll tell you, then, and I’ll speak plain –
I shan’t speak like this again –
So listen close to Tamerlaine:
You are as wildly dear to me
As the wind unto the sea
The sea, who sits eternally
With naught to break monotony
It is the wind which sets it free
And brings it scents of wild lands
The scent of mountain, scent of sand.
You are as wondrous dear to me
As the sun breaking upon the earth,
Who like a mother giving birth,
Looks down upon terrestrial girth
With gleaming joy, glitt’ring mirth
And brings behind that joyous gaze
A thousand golden, sunny days.
You are as sweetly dear to me
As to the butterfly the flower
The former’s life is but an hour
But in the bloom – Ambrosia’s power!
Ninety years becomes that hour
When from the bloom the creature sips,
And tastes the nectar ‘pon his lips.
You are as strangely dear to me
As the storm unto the tree
The one comes unexpectedly
And shakes the other violently
The forest turned into debris
But still the tree stands tall and long,
Taught by the storm to tower strong.
A thouand other metaphors
I would give thee, love, and more,
But now my pen is dry of ink
So these few must suffice, I think,
You dear, dear, dear boy.