When Was It That The Love Went Cold?
When was it
that the love went cold?
No north wind blew to bring the news,
or give a warning to my searching soul.
To live for love
had seemed the natural thing to choose;
so when was it that the love went cold?
We were singing
like two sailors, drunk
on the sweet wine of awareness -
soon washed away
by strains of punk rock that had no place
for tenderness, or knowledge
of that sweet caress that turned
the eagle to the dove –
before the bitter cold
that killed the love.
A single mother walks along the quiet Sunday street;
she dreams and lives in hopes of that day dawning
when at last she’ll make ends meet.
Those who sang so loudly at the charismatic meeting
will be gathered round their tables, laughing,
carving Sunday roast and eating well;
did any of them notice those among them
who can’t heat and eat - in homes a stone’s throw
from a living hell?
Elysian fields can have such great appeal -
to those who ply their art
with bleeding hearts, who care
about the way that others feel,
until a bed laid in a doorway makes the vision
less than real. So –
when was it that the love went cold;
when winter winds brought selfish thoughts,
to drive a bitter spike
into the souls of those who once
would not have looked away?
Did God look down upon this place and say,
I can’t see any of these races I would save?
Is it He or us that leads all to the grave,
where we may speak the eulogy for love?
The answer lies within each person’s soul;
do you know just when it was
the love went cold?