My great love, part two.


  My great love
I told the young writer, we shall have many great loves. Many women will steal our heart, make us want everything and more. But there are those maidens, who can awake us from the slumber of a dead sleep.
I do remember a Spring flower in 1978, in the month of late May. Long blond hair, dancing blue eyes and a face of a angel. I fell into treason in all things I loved to be near her. She was my illusion of perfection.
She found me alone by the small lake, we talked, held hands and I fell into the majesty of her. We were shrouded with youth and we were crazy fearless. Wanting everything and more.
I loved her eyes when she spoke. I could see the ancient cities, the sea and open sky in her eyes. I remember she took me to her home, we laid in a bed of German quilts and she sang songs of Leonard Cohen and Elvis.
The charity of love comes when she want.
She was childlike, innocence and wild in heart. She was filled with great dreams and she loved to dance. We locked the doors, disrobed and she danced her nakedness to the words of Leonard Cohen songs. I remember she fell to her knees, lay her head into my lap and she whispered. You don’t have to love me, please make me feel cherished and wonderful.
I already loved her misty eyes, I love to hear her softest words, she  made me believe. The sweetness of love was near. I told her. She was wonder and a miracle.
We learned by the candlelight of the Summer nights. Love delight, the hunger of the aching lust and like a whirlwind. We gave everything we had to each other. I remember her pale skin, her tender kisses and her body of perfect canvas. I wrote poetry upon her wanting skin and I read her poetry of love into the midnight hours. We had a year of splendor.
I was nineteen and she was seventeen. We didn’t know. Life was stormy seas, somber songs and young love wasn’t enough to keep love alive. We whispered words of love, made promises of forever. We learned the locked doors and the sweetness of the kiss. Wasn’t enough.
The young writer asked, was she your great love? I smiled and I told him. I don’t know. I have loved many and I believe we truly give everything we have, only once in a lifetime. My German girl was a gift and a blessing. She taught me, I wasn’t alone. She taught me, to love the song of Leonard Cohen, to love the ancient cities and to dance with the sea. Maybe, she was my great love. My teacher.
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                                 Dancing Coyote
Category : coyote, coyote poet, coyote poetry, music, poem, poet, poetry, Poetry and story
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