Ephemera (Buck)/Penumbra

by Mitchell Starrett Buck

PENUMBRA

Was it but a few short hours past, Belovèd, when first thy lips found mine? Now it is day; the sun flames in the sky and I am all alone. Surely, it was long ago I saw thee here.

All our delights so fleeting and so quickly sped! The hours past seem far away among the years of memory . . . Was I too easily conquered, loving thee? Didst thou desire less than I gave—or more?

When the west blushes to receive the sun, a light thou knowest will guide thy steps through the lengthening shadows. Love blooms in the twilight of our dreams, but we may not live and dream forever, thou and I. And love may not always pass the shadowy portals nor dwell beyond the leadened waters of oblivion.