On a wintry eve, when a crust of frost,
Turns my bones to rust and hair to snow,
I shall glance behind at what I've lost,
What Age and Life upon me bestowed.
And as Frailty firmly grips my mind,
My crumbling sense on stumbling feet,
Shall wind its way, endure to find,
Memories of You, so chaste, so sweet.
The shimmer of tears in the eyes of a Rose,
The glimmer of your smile with a hint of guile,
The love and piety that only Heaven knows,
And grace that Age nor Time could defile.
Your fiery look that own'd my soul,
The rush of the brush of your finger tips,
How your silken words my heart consoled,
The perch of dawn on the hue of your lips.
How my heart fluttered upon your nimble flight,
With unbiased fears of seeing you no more,
But you surely followed as day follows night,
And firmed my heart as you melted it before.
The Spartan spate of my unrelenting fate
That left me alone with my own despair,
The raining grief didn't wilfully abate,
And left me high and dry, on Heaven's stairs.
With not a way back nor an eternity with you,
Just fading glimpses of a cruel treasure,
On a wintry eve with a touch of the blues,
Those moments of love are my only pleasure.
