the first rays
bleed through
our old quartered
window panes
--slightly yellowed with
old age and neglect--
it casts a golden light
across the room
falling on top of the bed
as we once did
young lovers eclipsed in
passion too strong to control
muscles tensed with love
as shadows roar like lions
in back arched ecstasy
across the canvas wall
there's no passion
anymore
only the golden
light from
the window
as it falls
on an old man
alone with his shadow