Time
by
Robert Sharp
(Robert doesn't have email at the moment, but I'll pass on any feedback that is emailed to me.)
Once more the scene is set: an amber sky,
The scent of smouldering asters on the wind,
Grey twilight over summer's ruin laid -
And down the glass runs time's perfidious sand.
The tawny leaves go tumbling down the lane
Like children skipping heedless to their doom,
The slow gulls wheel above the barren hill,
And one by one the fuchsia's lanterns dim.
A cold rain weeps its soft, incessant tears
And darkness enters stealthy as a thief,
Now come the luckless thoughts of death and change;
The past returns, with its familiar grief.
For much I loved in vanished years is lost,
And time has taken much I hoped to hold,
And though I hope for spring I hope alone,
And chill the night whose wings around me fold.
Teach me to love with wise and open hands,
And mourn no more the flowers that surely fail,
Though time betrays all those I love the most
Yet send my heart on fools' fond errands still.
©2000 Robert Sharp