Paradise...Lost

Rue the day I come to tell
that I cannot remember well
the breeze that strode before us when
we heard the chorus in the glen
of hopes and dreams and whispers of
the thoughts of those who dream of love
and rue the cold and bitter night
when I cannot remember quite
the timbre of your quiet sigh
the color of your longing eye
and may I never live to tell
that I cannot remember well
what perhaps your name had been
or where you lived or even when
we said hello and not good-by
or was it just a far-fetched cry
of bitter love and loneliness
to fill internal emptiness
before we came to realize
more hope have we to touch the skies
than find within each others gaze
the magic of love's winsome ways.....
and dreams are but a hapless wave
to fill the cold and silent grave
Ah, rue the day I come to tell
that I cannot remember well...

J~