There is in this no touch of lovers' pain,
No shattered heart or bitter stomach's gall.
This sweet music is not wholly sane.
Does not love constitute a drain
Upon the guarded soul, an anguished call?
For love may wax or love may surely wane.
A lover fears the wandering eye, the pain
Of loss. Jealousy a soul may swiftly maul.
This sweet music is not wholly sane.
Let us not a stranglehold maintain;
On that road I have seen too many fall.
For love may wax or love may surely wane.
So set me free - perhaps I will remain -
A captive to your hands and lips enthralled.
Though love may wax or love may surely wane,
This sweet music is not wholly sane.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
September 13, 1994