Eve

On days like these I still remember you 
With all the waste of summer in your face, 
Your gestures with a sudden, timeless grace, 
The soft brown of your hair, the winding blue 

Of rivers in your eyes that wander through 
A land of silent fields and drifting ways. 
On days like these I feel there is a place 
Where even faded love is fair and true. 

But is this solace for a soul that burns 
With dreams of would have, could have, should have been? 
And is this comfort for a mind that turns 

Upon a memory that never came 
To be in life, a vision never seen, 
A swiftly learned but long-forgotten name?