A SONG OF FORGETTING
Time, and in no timid measure
forth your gnarled hand on my soul.
there irrevocable erasure
this hourís love, too beautiful.
ever shall come the fallen rose,
nights and lone, the songless days,
Memory mock lifeís lingering close
this the bitterest thing she says
loving waned and beauty ghostly
Of truth outlived and glory set.
lifeís a honey-harvest mostly
me its mercy, peril, passion
And, being done, let us forget.
Copyright © 2008 [Fen Tyler]