Memory hurts – our hearts are stung
But sometimes I think the pain is for
Not a particular place but more
A special time – when we were young
For freer days when we knew hope
And what we felt we had was – scope.
I’ve never thought of you as less than young
Though things concern you – imagined lines, maybe
White veins among your hair’s dark ore...
Darkness is tumbling from the flies
And fills the gloomy wings
Your backstage lover sits and sighs...
