What is Love to You?

My Secret Love for a Boy with a Golden Retriever

A poem about wanting someone, but being too afraid to do anything about it.

The Misty Mountains are singing A staunch and lonely tune. The goblins are banished And the hobbits are safe and sound, So why do I feel mournful? A bridge rises in front of me, Forming an ark of white light, As I scythe through the churning water below Like a restless animal.

Moonbeams dart through the lake, Just as a felt tip pen would draw With a pure and noble intention. Everywhere I hear Dragonflies, fireflies, things in the undergrowth, All secretive and strange. But I don’t feel scared.

Under some shining sapphire sky, Orange discs sail away from me As I toss them to your golden retriever, Your beloved, fluffy Jesse. The grass beneath our feet is still wet from the rain, Wet because the sun did not bother to penetrate it. Bolts of blue silk flow up like cream from the grass, The cream runs through the soil, the field, Reaching and pining for life.

A fence looms before me. A fence that is both friend and foe. A furry orange fox gazes at me From the other side of the enclosure, His eyes green and bright with curiosity. He means me no harm, But I feel so wretched and undeserving.

The sun glazes and heats up my skin, My warm and tender body. My inner fibers yearn for something deeper, Wanting to see more of this world Than this tiny little trap, No matter how beautiful it seems.

Dreams weave in and out of my consciousness. I can’t wave them away, nor would I want to. They enrich my reality to astonishing depths. In my dreams, a simple sweater becomes a tapestry of meaning, A crystal ring glows in the lamplight — Gazing invitingly at my finger, Not just my ring finger, but my index finger, pinkie, thumb, and middle finger too, All those paths I wasn’t allowed to take before.

A bright sheen of water Rolls down that glorious beach ball As your puppy runs after it, Her fur shimmering in the sun. Health delights in the physical, the luxurious, The natural, and musical rhythm. Who wants the regularity of a strict routine? Some do, but some of us crave The liquid nebulae of a newfound world.

Down the winding, dusty road, I soar Like a paper plane Hurtling towards who knows where. Roads of destiny converse with one another, Their murmuring voices Smooth as gemstones and candles.

The damp and chilly air, Wraps around me, Pulling something from my mind, Something I had longed to express But still had no courage to. Silvery climbing bars ride up From my psyche’s floor to my ceiling, Where I cry out in a rueful voice What you wanted to hear all along.

But you don’t care anymore, do you? You heard nothing Rising up from the chimney of my throat. My desires never pierced you, They only pierced me, Driving me to hide, Dejected, Back into my ivory tower.

The Misty Mountains is a mysterious, dark place in the Lord of the Rings universe. Goblins lurk here.

I wrote this poem about a crush, and this poem represents my forlorn, pining feelings very well. Some of the scenes I wrote about were from my dreams. And yes, my crush does have a golden retriever named Jesse!

For fun, I translated this poem into Chinese, too: “我暗戀一名有金毛犬的男孩子”.

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