There was a time, a happier time

When she lit up his life

The time was before, before all that

Before the light grew dim

Before now

He feels the time, the before time

A weight on his back, heavy

While he drifts aimlessly

In the shadows,

In the darkness

Alone

Flowers, ever growing

In his mind, in his closed eyed vision

Reminders of the happier time

Now bleak blooming reminders

Needing the light, that she was

Was for him at least

The light shines over there now

Far away, but close enough

Too close for him, he thinks

Much too close for his heart

Far too close

Naught to do, naught at all

But to turn,

Away and inside himself

Deep inside his psyche

To the memories

The sweetest of memories

Savored on his mental palette

Like fine wine

~Robert Doutaz~