The summer sun sinks quietly, but evening takes the day
I sit alone and think of things you’ve said,
And then your voice comes silently, and I can hear the way
So gently you had spoken, from the poems you had read.
I would build a fire for us, and you looked long for books,
In your hand, a well chilled glass of wine.
You’d turn your head and give to me some sweet, and loving look,
Just your presence stopped for me, the dreadful hands of time.

I still recall as we sat down, beside the fire’s bright,
In the light our eyes met once, and then...
Glistening as you turned the page, ah, soft enchanting night
You read aloud, I fell to dreams again
Listening, I sat transfixed, to the words that you had chosen
You peered above the page, and gave a wink
A mental traveler I became, and all my thoughts were frozen
Your casual style gave this to me, I think.

Slowly, time would pass for us, I’d stoke the fire and then
You’d have our glasses filled, and waiting there
Another page turned in your book, a poem to begin
The glow within the hearth, shone as gold upon your hair.
I kissed you once, and you had said, “It’s you, I know I love”
Before you read the next one on your list
I’d relax and sip my wine, the willing victim of
Your charming ways, and all the nights you made me feel like this

Those years are gone, though in my mind, I think it yesterday
Youth has left my heart, the one forsaken
But time is such a cruel thing, and has it’s heartless way
At times I find those memories, although they have been taken.
Taken from my here and now, but still so fresh in thought
I think about that smile once, and again
I’ll build my fire, remembering the books that you had brought
And the times you sat just waiting,
A poem to begin..

Dean Evans
8-3-11