Now it is full thirty, forty years,
And yet I can recall as yesterday
Our dancing, flirting, laughing, sailing, hiking,
With picnics on the beach or mountain top,
And watching sunsets with my arm around you;
Then we canoed in the caressing moonlight,
Dropping our paddles now and then to glide
Across the water smoothly, silently,
As we observed the fireflies in their flight,
Like tiny shooting stars that briefly sparkle;
And we would softly sing there in the night
Ben Jonson's old, immortal song of love,
"Drink to me only with thine eyes,"
And other melodies that matched our mood.
When now I let my mind roam wide and free,
So many dear, sweet memories of you
Come flooding back to give me secret pleasure
That's mixed with deep-felt pangs of sadness and regret,
But that's the way, we know, of life and love;
There is no happy life, but only short-lived
Hours or days or nights that may be happy.
As I grow old, I oft shall think of you
In those romantic, early years of youth,
And wish, like all our fellow human beings,
That we could somehow resurrect the past,
So I could cancel out my gross mistakes,
The worst of which was losing touch with you
And letting you drift subtly from my life,
When you and your good parents moved far West.
Alas, there is no magic alchemy
That can transmute a copper life to gold,
And change me to that other, better self,
The bright and joyful man I could have been,
Had I pursued you to the ends of earth
And brought our dawning love to consummation.
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