for RMT by ST, 1982
No sudden inspirations
come flowing to my mind,
No metaphors, no similes,
No complaints that Love is blind;
No profuse allusions
to Love's delusive nature,
No mention how elusively, confusedly,
It takes one unawares.
Expect no flowery effusions
from Love's elated pen:
When my hand takes that instrument
Romantic utterance ends.
My love for you is simple,
a simple caring that has grown:
I've grown accustomed to your being there
When I need support and love.
My Stories 