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.
April 2, 1995