How Soon




How soon before my lovely days are gone?

How soon before I see this place no more,

and have no more time beneath the sun;

nor time beside this ever-whispering sea;

nor hear the wind whisper amongst the reeds;

nor see the tall plane trees upon the hills,

where soft-eyed goats call as they freely roam;

nor see the crimson hibiscus flowers you pick

each day and place in a vase on my desk

so I think of you as I write my tales

of shepherds piping their lost sheep to fold.


The flame of life burns quickly in the lamp;

passion and love and longing and hot tears

consume and all too soon a cold wind blows

upon our hearts and takes us far away

and we are found no more in this old world,

although the moon turns – searching every night

and the stars patiently shine on and on.


How Soon

© R J Dent (2009)

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