I fear that the embrace we shared back then
has lost its meaning in your mind today.
It's waiting for some other moment when
we're once again together. When I play
with memories in verse, do I disturb
the balance of our delicate regard?
Relationships are precious, and to curb
my muse is only wise. It's not so hard.
But, ah, the things you've given me! They sing,
seductive as the call of distant lands.
My fingers, clumsy with such substance, bring
no talent, but I shuffle with the strands
of silken colour, soft and light as air,
and beg forgiveness for my lingering care.