Blue Angel

But of course no such beautiful woman
could love an old man like him!
Even the idea was an imposition,
an impertinence, even in thought.

And yet he could not stop dreaming
of her face, her chiseled profile,
her rum-dark eyes, her lips,
her rare, heart-breaking smile.

It was sweet and completely ridiculous
to be reduced to such a cliché:
“another old man lusts for beauty”!
Only just is his humiliation.

But is it ever wrong to love?
(The angels – I hear them sing.)
Though love is only a mask of desire.
(The demons, they dance in a ring
......................................................... of fire.)