Delightful one, may we never meet?
Will this distance really last forever?
Is there love anywhere that never bears fruit?
Is there hope for days to come?
The world is what we think it is,
As we grow it changes form,
In this ever changing world,
Have we each other to lean upon?
Attachment is that which grows by the day,
To be precise, by the hour.
Darling, our days, we know, are numbered,
Are feelings similarly bounded?
Will this wonder see the light of day?
Or will it be as ephemeral as the dawn?
Will all that be left with the passage of time,
Be a fragrant memory of a promising morn?
Will a magic so subtle stand the glare of harsh light?
Will it survive the darkness of the night?
Will this warm glow endure in strife?
Will it weather the storm that people call life?
Early 1993
