Through passing years, the numbing recollection never dims,
There I, so cauterised to love’s surrendered touch,
Stand mute, no longer brightly jaunting after whims
Of sweet embrace, once open to receive of such.
What has become of me who once was raging flame
Whose inward fire burned, indeed consumed my very soul?
Now quenched and drenched and side-lined from the game,
The pain of separation took its toll.
She loved me once and I, in truth, that love received
Yet stumbling in my own pathetic way
Returned in imperfection what oaths my mind conceived
A pledge of hearts true beat, for her alone, til dying day.
And now…the emptiness that cannot be contained
Overspills my soul and trickles down
In anti-mattered agony that’s unrestrained,
And drags my heart of longing to the ground.
Should I forgo the hope of knowing loves sweet taste
That honey-suckle scent aroma fair?
Should I retreat and turn my dreams to vile obnoxious waste
Stripping every thought and inner motive bare?
I do not know what art or cunning craft is this
That paints a picture I can sense but never see,
And tempting of me there to dare to cross the great abyss
In hope to find a road to set me free.
I miss her smile and for a while I can her presence feel,
As in our youth we shared, in hand, the starry night
With promise there that nothing could or would this moment steal,
And in each others arms, would we, that pledge of love requite.
So now… I look at all I am and everything become,
Self-pitied in my introspective bubble,
And all the words that echo round in spire so wearisome
Queue up to mock me as I sit amidst the rubble.
Now, with her passing, I can only dream a backward dream,
Reliving all the thoughts and deeds of my once tender hope
Caught in self repeating cycle, oft recurring theme,
Tethered by a strong and so unyielding rope.
Here I am, in heart of longing, seeing out the endless days
In the tortured calling of a troubled mind,
Here I sit in scattered debris and a memory that strays,
Impossible, the past, to leave behind.
Would that I could feel again the lilting breeze,
The wind of summers warm and gentle flow,
The love that brought me there to bend my proud and once strong knees,
And beg her for the kindness she did, to me, bestow.
If I could live again a minute captured in the shifting air,
No words could ever say what needed said,
Just the faintness of her breath against my face, her touch, her hair,
Would raise this heart of longing from the dead.