I’ve found a place where I’m at peace,

a place with many friends.

With golden sand, seas that chant

and palms that clap their hands.

The wind blows gently, in my hair

and I can be, just me,

as flowers bright sing songs of love,

“of love?” you say, to me.

 

Yes of love, my kind of love,

a sweet and burning pain.

For love is love, for every one

though different as the rain.

I think of him a beautiful,

and though you say I’m Gay.

I love him; he loves me too.

What more is there to say?

 

So leave us love the sea and sun.

Love in a way that’s real.

For who may say a love is wrong.

When that is how we feel.

 

 

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, March 1998