It bothers me that, being long apart,
I now can think of you and feel no pain
Or melancholy; surely, says my heart,
I have betrayed you. Whom am I to blame?
Myself perhaps, to let love burn away
With my eternal promises still new
As on the day I made them. But they say
Time heals worse wounds than this one. Surely you,
My sweet, are blameless, for you never tried
To force my glowing feelings either way.
I called them love, and never knew they lied,
Nor that I should look back on them today
And see that, after all, I have not strayed;
Such fire must lessen, though it never fade.
December 21, 1985