Riffing on a theme from Yeats and Shakespeare

[reaschild]

The Poet, Reading Poetry, Writes to An Old Love


When you are old, and your hair has gone gray,

Think back on me, and on our younger days,

and know you were the first love e're I had;

Think on our love, and from those thoughts be glad.

Remember me beneath a star-filled sky,

one moon-white gravel, whishing I could fly,

your presence brought me back to earth, and yet,

with you my heart flew higher than alone I'd get.

Although in time our love has mellowed much,

from eros' fire to friendship's gentle touch,

still memories of that first most brilliant flame

burn bright as those more famous poets may name.