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