Shadowland

Too long was I denied her touch:

the woman, who I loved too much.

Blonde-tressed, with eyes that glowed and gleamed:

a goddess girl, or so it seemed

 

to me, when I was cursed with youth,

condemned to taste the tragic truth

that she, who was the world to me,

may never be my destiny.

 

Too far into the Shadowland

she walked, when she let go my hand.

Into that cruel abyss beyond,

dark-haired became, no longer blonde.

 

For she did change, but so did I:

star-cross’d beneath a savage sky

and star-cross’d love, of course, includes

those never-ending interludes,

 

where lovers’ paths do so diverge;

they separate, with sorrow’s surge,

that wipes the footprints from the sand

they made, while walking hand in hand.

 

Too long apart to merge or melt

together; that is how I felt

before fair hair turned grey like skies

and magic sparkled in our eyes.