Once my love.
Give me your hand.
Now just these images.
Sustaining days else made drear.
A lento waltz drifting in a misty past.

Fragment of a fading dream,
Touching on the edge of this day, or that.
Is that love’s lesson,
To have, to hold, then let drift?
Just the eye of an ember in cold grey ash.

Once my love.
Give me your hand.
Now just these images remain.