Passion Spent
Passion Spent
Into oh the quiet twilights strays
Then creeps like a soundless youth from day,
Until the moon and its bright reflections
With time did ever change
And the river sounds an eternal flow
Forever idle in this place unknown,
Like an image of thy memories sight
For which we are left to wonder why
Yet this moment exceeds ones broken heart
Here where we silent wait,
While outside beneath the evenings moon
The faintest breeze blows by
We often think, what may have been
When this in our memory is kept,
Beneath what is conceived of soft lament
And the thought before we wake
Farewell to the edges that limit life
When this passionless night retires,
To bid us gaze into the dawn
And behold our dreams expire
By M.Norton
marklnorton@shaw.ca
Copyright © Mark Norton | Year Posted 2011
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