Still Gold

Once he loved her
like the day loves the sun,
their story shone
with lustful
and zested life.
They revelled in
their vital lives:
duality served,
in singular love
and caress,
upon a word
or look.

Yet now,
his stare denies
her pallid heart and
remaindered smile.
Love lives now only
in long laments
for the golden flower,
here in its final hour,
as the weld dissolves,
and the constant
becomes dissonant
once more.
He can’t recall her face.
Nor touch, nor kiss,
no moments in joy,
no days of holding,
nor needing her.
No name comes to
his lost lips,
no smile for her,
save fleeting greet,
and again retreat
to an unfilled mind.

She knows that once,
the man was hers to hold,
their flower was gold
when love filled their hearts
and minds.
With hopes forlorn that,
perhaps somewhere
in the painful voids
of her lover’s old
and crumpled mind,
a petal lies,
still gold.

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