Disillussioned

In the hollow yawn of darkness

Swallowing the dim-lit moon

You lean closer, through the spaces

That are gold and blue at noon

When each vain and visual fragment

Slumbers in the hidden known

Suddenly a keen enchantment

Stirs the midnight’s moody tone

As the lips of recollection

Stir the wanting and the must

But there is no resurrection

For the hour turned to dust

And within imagined having

There is no fulfillment, dear

Or a memory worth saving

In the mercy of a tear

In the hollow yawn of darkness

I can hear the past beseech

Though I lean, I cannot touch you

Over moments out of reach

J~