Love’s dying flame

In the drift of days
           in the swirl
of autumn leaves
           I tabulate her absence

Smoke rises
           into the pale September sky
and butterflies in their final hours
           coast on the gentle flow of air

Love once shaped our lives
           and our bodies
burned with desire
           but time has reduced us
to memories
           of better times

The butterflies
           will return in spring
when we will rekindle
           love’s dying flame

John Lyons

Revised