June 2, 2006

That grey plume of hair
wafting above your eyes --
once black! Yet, it did fare
(not to my surprise)

better than that visage,
now cracked like crumpled paper.
Oh! Let time return that long-held mirage
that this day would come much later.

And so my thoughts compare
those two pacts we made with time:
how you burnt up your share
before I finished mine.

Stars burn, glowing bright.
And I, dull planet, did bask in your light.
Yet stars burn up and fade from sight
and on this planet, 'tis evermore night.