I remember the light
at the end of one year
the gold mist is still bright
thousands of miles from here
and voices were calling
across the steep meadows
until the late falling
asleep of their echoes
less than a breath before
the silence where they are
the bare veined limbs are more
clear than ever but far
out of reach as always
lit by a new distance
and its beam that catches
the ring of last moments
I have stayed up to see
each time they are farther
than I thought they would be
one after another
those occasions that I
was to be happy in
while they were passing by
as I knew even then
they are farther away
once more the glimpses of
the sun one winter day
the eyes of early love
city after city
frozen on the night sky
each deafening party
spinning as the sparks fly
they appear in a new
perspective of absence
that each was led into
and the good rooms that once
upon a time have been
each in its turn the heart
of a whole horizon
have been taken apart
emptied and finally
left out in the cold air
to be recalled only
as dreams of what they were
what we dream now is here
the hours that we forget
in the garden the clear
leaf light after sunset
in the dream we believe
the house sails on the hill
it never means to leave
and the winter moon still
floats on its lucid bay
in the life where we met
and the year and the day
have not gone from us yet
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