nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

A VOICE FROM THE PAST

The day
With tired eyes
Shuffled slowly
To one side
An echo thought
But then too real
A certain irony
An old friend seen.

Her face had lost
A certain smile
A few more lines
The voice still shined
Her hair was shorter
Lined with grey
Thought returned
How we did play.

Two lovers who
In violent throes
Removing one anothers
Clothes
By dawn by noon
By candlelight
We pleasured deep
Each single night.