There was a time I used to say
That straight is straight and gay is gay,
As if Love could somehow confine
Itself to one side of a line.
Indeed, since others held this view,
I, confident that it was true,
Had not the merest thought of bed
When that dear lady turned my head.
But slowly, slowly, drawn to her,
The line, it seemed, began to blur
And by the time we came to kiss
My mind had moved to think like this:
Though I like meat, can I not wish
Sometimes to taste another dish
And relishing it too, why then
Should I not savour meat again?
So this is how I see the joys
Of Love bestowed by girls and boys
Since beauty’s beauty, nonetheless,
However it may choose to dress.
And does Love feel the merest pain,
If kissing John or clasping Jane
I take the man’s or woman’s part
When Love resides within my heart?
There was a time I used to state
That gay is gay and straight is straight
But Love is Love and all is fine
Wherever one may draw the line.