Love’s light lost

Ask me in December.

Don’t ask me to remember

Your gentle touch,

Our fleeting brush with..

Well, you know.

Romantic illusion, youthful delusion,

Unbreakable connection. Your recollection?

Mine is sweet. Bitter? Perhaps.

Let’s not dwell on that,

Because we were young, full of..

Well, love.. if love’s what it was.

Yes, that’s the word. Absurd, it may seem.

Half in a dream, we fell into longing,

Or at least into bed and, it has to be said,

The gymnastics were welcome

And seldom repeated to that serene level.

It’s hard now to capture

The bliss, the rapture, wrought from the fact that we shagged the night through,

Knew what we wanted, took it,

Embraced it: our base, lustful need.

Greedily celebrating our passion, possession,

Love’s new-found lesson.

A time long ago, now, hard to know

How we fell for each other.

Another age, past, the bliss couldn’t last.

I hear now the eulogy, passive invitee.

Your husband-widower, children, friends, family.

How did you know her?

Friend, I will say,

Long time ago,

Mere acquaintance, you know.

Cling to April’s spring memory,

Now in my autumn, your winter full come.

Ask me in December,

When my days are done.

O ~ 0 ~ o ~

O ~ 0 ~ o ~

Submitted to:

With many thanks to Babs for the inspiration.

O ~ 0 ~ o ~

Thanks for reading

Ray