..and time shall come
   not to hold my hand
   but to say: you will dissolve
  like the withering flower
  
  I'll not back away
  nor shed a tear
  the first kiss of love's lips
   so near it still does linger

  the scent I will remember
of her hair, her smile
the shine of her eyes
in that long-ago summer

love waxes but her memory
is short-- she doesn't promise
to cherish or stay forever
such a bitter lesson for the left-behind lover.