I hold on, these cold days, to redolent memories of her hair,
And the sweet smell of her breath,
As she whispered promises to me
That she would be there to hold me
For all time--yet something
Happened on life's dancefloor
That beckoned her to another man--
Perhaps our song was over, maybe it
Was time to relinquish her hand
To where it belonged, yet never
Shall i let go of memories where
We kissed, alone, under the laughing,
Inebriation of the moon,
On a deserted golden beach,
Where the innumerable grains of sand
Were in direct proportion to
The infinite ways we could love one another, as my fingers clumsily
Explored the supple terrain of her skin,
And i gazed into blue eyes with jealoua
Desperation of never being able
To fully satisfy my desire for her.
And now it seems desire has departed
From my life, but the memory of it--
Once living and vibrant in the waking
Hours of of my impassioned youth,
Has been etched upon the walls
Of my cerebral thoughts of an age
When everything nattered, for she
Was the world, and love filled the gasses with the starry nectar of adoration, that satisfied my thirst for
Such a short, yet profoundly
Influential time, i remember so very well, yet is this a healthy nostalgia
After all, when i discount all other opportunites to find love, as being
Somehow fallacious expendatures
Of energy, as i know, in my heart,
That what i had once had
In those ferosciously precious days
Of my younger life, is unreedemable,
And the immutable fact of growing
Older is becoming ever more difficult to ignore.
