even now that I could not ever want to let you go.
Speaking thus softly of life and its laughter and of love and its loss
for never do we realize who truly holds our heart
- Until they are already gone.
Thus I nurture our destiny –
As it is fates own calm that stays your heart next to mine
that you lie here with me in these gilded fields.
Could we always have these endless days with their cloudless skies
spanning horizons of quietude as to lay with you
- Is to be closer to Heaven.
Yet fate is a fickle wind –
May come a day it would blow your spirit free of my will
even as my heart knows no boundary of distance.
Our rendezvous all too brief and yet how grand it was to feel wanted
if only for one fleeting moment within your arms
when our winds had gone
© Charles Coakley Simpson 2004