Does it not seem late, my love?

Evening has stretched into night and

Past the time when wisdom would counsel retreat.

At times I wish that dawn might come again; I

Rue the bitter knowledge that it may not be so between us —

This has been too long a day already. Peace, my heart.

Utter no impassioned promises; you cannot stay the sun.

Rest easy in our memories. It was a glorious dawn, and

Even the overlong day, I cannot regret.


M.A. Mohanraj

April 2, 1995