From that day

The seasons fled,

Dark nights, cold days,

Frost covered window panes.

A broken heart bled

Against a Stygian sky,

Yet, winter’s kiss always submits

To the dew drenched green and viriditas of spring.

Now a summer breeze plays about the window’s silken gauze,

And immutable though his march,

Time cannot part that which did not start,

So with little to do but sit and recall

A time that never was,

I’ll stare into the mist

And by sheer force of will suppress

That which remains to me,

The memory of our tryst.

But lust likes to linger,

Tis never quite ground to dust