My Love’s first language
So long lost,
Twas most forgotten.
Methinks that in the
Shades of other-time
I once knew this rote and rhyme.
Heartstrings, long disused,
Are plucked
And echo gaily in dark rooms,
Too large
And mostly empty.
Faint echoes of laughter trill,
And bounce from hidden corners.
A stirring…
There! A light!
Soft, swiftly quenched.
Again sweet sounds
Flow to my thirsting ears
And slake,
Only to parch anew,
And drink once more.
And yet again…
How long, Beloved,
Have we been so far-parted?
Eternity…
Yet not so.
And here you are
Fresh as dew
Gently bringing love
And light to this musty soul.