To Love and Be Loved in Return

I love to watch young lovers -
as they stroll, hand in hand, in the park,
for the joy that i see -
lifts my spirits, and lighten my heart...

for i could hear the light laughter -
that speaks of the joy of being loved,
i could see the loving little gestures -
in a touch, a little kiss on the nose...
i could see the stars that shine in each pair of eyes -
and they tell me of a joy that comes from being in love...

And when you say -
taht you could live without love...
that you've found joy in your career,
in what you do and where you go -
i could sense that it's a message for the world -
and not from your heart...

For even a hermit needs to be loved -
what more a girl of twenty-four?
so, tell me not, that your heart is dead -
that all you could think of is work, work, and more work!
for i've been through all that before -
and driven myself so hard and so often before -
that when i crawl into bed - exhausted -
i need not hear my lonely heart cry itself to sleep...
for it is so easy -
to laugh and joke and smile in the day...
but in the silence of the night -
the lonely heart needs to put down its heavy load -
to rest, and heal the wounds as best it could,
and to be ready to trudge through yet another day, another tomorrow...

And often i could hear, in the silence of the night -
a deep sigh: "... dreams i have, too,
but they have vapourised long ago..."
so i don't want young hearts to suffer,
i don't want to feel you cry,
i don't want another's heart to be yearning -
for a love you wish to let die...

for though i've kept my little flame of love -
trapped in the deepest corner of the heart,
i do feel, sometimes, that it is reaching out -
to find another heart that grieves...