Surely among an old man’s memories
there should be recollections

of the long nights of love he spent
in his younger days when the world

was new and the stars had lost
none of their brilliance

and the streams teamed with trout
and the roses seemed never to die

when he would wake to sweetness
to gentleness to light – content

at every turn of his dreams
the solid architecture of his life

built upon the unerring
beauty of her heart

John Lyons