I know you as my own, instinctively.
It's in your look, those shining, tender eyes.
The look of admiration makes me flush
A little, and I don't know what to say.
But when we meet in words, it's like two kisses,
Each to the other's cheek with mild affection.
Quite separate from the longings of my flesh,
The feeling moves me deeply, all the same,
In some ways, more so. How I long to give
To you the sweetness that you gave to me.
We are like stars drawn from a constellation:
The eye perceives that we belong together,
And yet it sees that we are not as one,
Nor can we be, though I might wish it so.
The ring upon your finger tells me no,
It cannot be, alas, this cherished dream.
Like stars, we cannot touch, nor share our fires,
Our lives, our longings. These must burn as two,
Far, far removed, and yet our rays may cross
And each may still receive the other's blessing.
This has its own allure, celestial, holy,
A pure and steadfast love without the tears.
George Chadderdon © 1996