I’m sorry.
I’m a moth to flame.
My pierced soul
Shows my shame

But it isn’t tawdry.
What I admire most in him
Are his nascent noble virtues
And the way he wrestles with them.

These flashed in his expression.
I don’t know him; what I know
Is he is young and happy
And I’m an ancient widow.

I am now deciding the timing
Must have been a sharp grace;
I felt safest and calmest
Staring into his face,

While caught up in the never
My heart has never wandered
He reminds me what I’m not-
I remind myself all I have squandered.

And what I will never be
Guarantees what I can never possess,
And the pain of more rejection is abated-
More or less.

Trying to make it all make sense
Tastes like sour grapes.
I don’t know why these things are,
But after all the scuffs and scrapes

His eyes are still a sea of calm,
And my tender soul
Is still grateful for the balm
He doesn’t know consoles.

I don’t see how
These lasting impressions
Could be for me to keep,
But they resist suppression.
I can’t imagine having
A safe soul in my inner spaces,
The forgiveness he must exude;
A soul composed of tender graces
With strength enough to survive.
Somehow my weak eyes
Chose an impossible suitor,
But despite all my tries

I can’t dethrone the ridiculous affection
That I can neither allow.

These impressions became the standard
By which I now measure all men
Whether or not I mean to measure,
Even when I don’t intend.

He’s too good for me,
And no one else is him.

Scandalous, the covert widow
In her quagmire all day,
Inadvertently sealed her heart
Before it was even free to give away.
Perhaps it was self-defense
To keep me alone,
But he was gravity from the first;
In his eyes, the cosmos shone.
I try to sacrifice it, killing it on an altar,
And I always think I’m doing well,
But then I see his face
And it all goes to hell…

With one glimpse of heaven.
What an impossible mess I am

And what a lonely life I’m set to live.

I took a winding trip
To see a friend of late
But in my absence, the ivy climbed
Overgrowing the garden gate
I turned to cross the meadow back
An upward glance, the sudden sight
Of a tall lighthouse on the far side
Radiating light.

I knew it wasn’t my place to tread
On private property, nor stand and stare,
But I felt a quiet gravity
Pulling me from here to there.
Too old to take the gambol
I was as close as I could ever be,
My path rambles in opposite directions
But when I close my eyes, all I see:

The unexpected lighthouse smiling back at me.

I cannot say why
Or what good it could possibly do,
But I miss his face
The world is nothing new
And everyone feels
Like repeating vibrations
In measurable spectrums
But he radiates in isolation
Some kind of unique pulse
Outside of the white noise
Of common parameters
If I had a choice
If I had a chance
If I had anything of worth
To proffer or promote
To share the earth
Beneath each other’s feet
It would be my gravity
To be his blessing

But I am woefully insufficient
To hold such a masterpiece.