You were a fleeting love—a fire, a phase,
And so, in quiet hours, these words I raise
From embered wires, from echoes soft and low:
You are the sun on days when gold winds blow.
May laughter grace your lips, unforced and bright,
A dawn that lingers, turning dark to light.
May time one day stretch out a thread so fine,
It leads you back to joy’s unbroken line—
And if my eyes then gleam with tender tears,
Let them be sweet, like spring after the years.
Once, at love’s door, I swore you were my fate,
But you became the keeper of the gate,
The one who locked me in a lonesome hold—
Yet still, my heart remembers you in gold.
Oh, Dulcinea, do not be mistaken:
No envy lives where love remains unshaken.
I choose the zeal that lifts, not chains that sever—
A good man’s love is one you’ll lose never.
So let this truth outlast the fading stars:
He’ll always tell you what you truly are.