My Lover’s Eyes.

My Lover’s Eyes.

’Tis the last time in this world I’ll see, my lover’s eyes loving me,
The last time gently feel, her warming hands caressing thrill,
The last time her breath whispers many sweet nothings into my ear,
The last, soft touch of her hand, lay upon my breast so dear.
For time has commanded with the coming of an age,
For our moment of passion be left, discarded, upon life’s stage.
For what needs be done, best be swiftly made,
Linger not over the pain of lost and parted indefinitely,
As, my love, these aged eyes can still weep profusely,
At the inevitable, regretful, loss of thee,
And time hath but scant regard dispassionately,
In what becomes of the love that passed between you and me.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  A Small Pebble.   A small pebble. I crossed the Murray this morning…the Mighty Murray River…on the ferry at Swan Reach and I picked up a stone from the one side, carried it across on the ferry and placed it on the other side. I did it because of a story my mother told me years ago that I just remembered as I drove up to the ferry… My mother grew up near the river. She worked as a house-maid at both Punyelroo and Portee stations near Swan Reach before and during the second World War. Many times she was called to accompany the Lady of the House to cross the river on a flat-topped punt, used for ferrying supplies across the river there at the station. She told me of an old German hand there at Portee who, whenever he had to cross the river, would pick up a small stone, a pebble, carry it across and place it on the other side….my mother asked him why he did it….he was at first reluctant to tell her..but she persisted… “Well, girlie”…( that’s what...
Read more
Image
  The Ties that Bind.                            “Wanderer above a sea of fog.”  Where I live. I have opened a new blogger account specifically for this area where I live so as to promote stories and history placed in this locale.. https://underthemalleebough.blogspot.com/ for it is imperative to preserve what I call the “Historical watermark” that has been “impressed” upon a locale…it is such a thing that fixes and holds a place in time and allows the people living there to feel..and that is the correct emotion..”to feel” a part of that history and so identify with confidence to a place where they are living their lives…to destroy the in-situ history of a place is to debase one’s own life..It is why I feel a strange comfort whenever I descent off the higher land down into the Barossa Valley. it is because th...
Read more
  Memories of the early days of Mannum district. (These several “recollections” were contributed with thanks, by Helen Tuxford).   Lost Innocence by Dean Frahn. My first school was the Cross Roads Primary School, 8km east of Mannum, which I first attended in 1948. This school closed down two years later, and the school bus then collected all the children and transported us to the "big" school of Mannum Higher Primary. Suddenly we were bereft of our innocence — the most startling change being that we had to wear shoes to school and instead of 14 of us there were 500. The little school was like home away from home as all the children of the seven grades were in one room and the older ones cared for the little ones, just as they would have done at home. There "amenities" were minimal. No electricity, no running water, no flush toilet, no paving, no nothing really. But we were happy, really happy, and our teacher, a Miss Davies, was just so beautiful and kind ...
Read more