Sweet cordial of summers past has lost its sparkle
And fading blooms of purpose wilt on empty table.
Stains of yester-year recall a joyful celebration
As moon beams touch on silken folds of final resignation.
Silhouettes of uncertainty appear on the horizon
As winds of season’s change portend ambiguous direction.
Songs of nightingale have lost all enchantment
While languid lovers wait--on new day’s dawning.