I wrote a hundred poems, br to the woman I loved. br Seventeen years later, br she told me that she'd br only loved me that first year br after we were married. br For sixteen years she kept her silence br of not telling me. br It's difficult to write of love br Anymore. br Even now, when I have a woman br that says she loves me back. br I think of songs...'I thought br you loved me, you said, you loved me, br we planned together, to love forever...' br (Nat King Cole...A Blossom Fell) br Melancholy tunes...'Where are you? br Where have you gone without me? br I thought you cared about me...' br or...'I'm A Fool T o Want You...' br or 'What's New? How is the world treating you? ' br Sinatra could make you feel sooo alone. br One day, not too far away... br I'll sit down and it'll br pour out of me... br This love for you... br and you alone... br br P.S. It never happened. She lied.