Old Mays


Be a futile quest, know no aim nor rest
Or be an enquiry in oblivion, a heart’s cry in vain

Let it fade on the horizon, and find it’s own hymn
And scatter in sands, or sing deep in lands

Dwell in minutes that tickle, in words so fickle
Let a memory be born, let an image dawn

Long far and wide, and long deep in tides
Not pretend and connive, or in lies thrive

Come to me or walk away forever, bind it anew or once sever
Be a memory that gleams, so content in its sheen

Dissipate like the dew, only to be born anew
Let me be that leaf above, that withers soon in love

Drift away like morning rays, only to return to old Mays
Entangle in embrace, of memories, of dew, of haze

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