Shadowland

Too long was I denied her touch,
the woman who I loved so much.
Blonde-tressed, with eyes that glowed and gleamed:
a goddess girl, or so it seemed
 
to me, when I was cursed by youth,
condemned to taste the tragic truth
that she, who was the world to me,
would never be my destiny.
 
Too far into the Shadowland
she walked, when she let go my hand.
Fair femme, of whom I’d grown too fond,
dark-haired became, no longer blonde.
 
For she had changed, but so had 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,
which wipes their footprints from the sand
they made, while walking hand in hand.
 
Too long apart to merge or melt
together, feeling what we felt,
before fair hair turned grey like skies
And magic faded from our eyes.