Is our treasured meeting buried too long?
Our choir soaring once strong in song
now dumbly stilled, denied that reprieve
begets unravelling distance to grieve.
Shall I no longer see Aphrodite’s face?
Am I denied that harbour of hearts grace;
now silted closed from lacking embrace
that each mocking memory seems disgrace.
What sound if your laughter I cannot hear?
All earthly music seems crashing bell
lacking harmony from your voices’ well
that spills a weave of beauty’s spell.