I love anew
the look of your
face, live glass, on
which shades pass. That which
we know never was, that can be
eternal, fades then:
When in your eyes'
voice remembered
shades rise, surprise
your glance, and let
it fade, remember,
and forget moon,
shore, those once were,
where those choices wane.
Chance turns your flesh
to light. The words
of soft nights fade
in your fresh months.
Still shades shall learn, as
once, often, light
passes in your
glass to each new face.
Yours is here.