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Breezes into Pieces
All alone in wait by the window, Stands a sad lamp in parting sorrow. To linger behind an unbelieving gate, Isn’t my longing gaze all but too late? Lonelier is the moon full and cold, Bitter still is when an old love retold. A midnight candle struggles to keep awake, Isn’t a sleepless grief all but my mistake? To the end of the world I drift, With a pot of wine too heavy to lift. The wine revives a memory thin and thick.. Doesn’t it warm up all but a heart so love-sick? How can I bear to steal the hour As water flows east to catch a flower, Soon blooming, soon withering, and so forgotten. Didn’t my life miss all but a fateful blossom? Who played over a lute amid east breezes, Heart torn apart and tune falling into pieces? A weary wall stands peeling and silent. Doesn’t it remind all but an age innocent? Youthful hours are no more and passed. Am I alone holding to by-gones fast? In vain is the music blown to float. Isn’t my wait all but a sobbing note? Never could the same lute ever play A tune long gone and blown far away. Maples live for a moment bright and brief. Wouldn’t our story come to all but a grief? Beyond hedges an ancient path forgot the time When we walked along with your hand in mine. Parting words speak less than a silent tear. Isn’t memory all but smoky grass far and near?
