The fading light has stripped away my midday certainty,
as brewing shadows boil upon the mountains distantly.
Soon the stars and orbs of night descend upon the sum
Of all my doubts and heartaches -- leaving me both low and mum.
Then comes flooding back to me the past of love and joy --
When young and sound we played with life as if it were a toy.
We gamboled far together ere our roads asunder rent.
After that I found much less of all but discontent.
I dare not dream that you’ll come back -- I dare not, but I do.
But words upon the screen (or page) are merely deja vu.
They speak of ‘closure’ -- those who think the heart can prudent be.
But I know (maybe you do, too) that such is foolery.
No styptic pen can overwrite the blunders that destroyed
Our happiness and sent it crashing deep into the void.
But when the dawn lures me away from melancholy thought,
I sometimes fancy -- in spite of years -- our love you’ve not forgot.
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