And now
That you have
Already gone,
Like a dream,
And love,
Like a colorful
Butterfly,
Flew away
In a cold,
Gloomy night,
And vanished
In the midst
Of a dark,
Heavy cloud,
Time slips
Through my fingers,
Like a handful
Of raindrops.
Everyday,
I sit
By myself,
In my garden,
And wonder
If you still
Think of me,
Of my love,
Of the poems
That I wrote
For you,
Day and night.
For I,
Have failed
To forget
Your face,
Your voice,
Your smile,
Your perfume,
And the days
That we spent
Here together,
In love,
In content,
In delight,
When the sun
Was warm,
At day,
And the moon
Was so tender,
At night.