What will become.
When the flames of all we were
Dwindle, dim and all but fail,
What will be done with those prevailing, precious days;
Our loves, our lives, our yesterdays?
And when the smoke is all that's left
Of passions burnt and loves' bereft,
What will we see, what shall we be?
But fading, aching, longings for that former majesty.
Lost, bereaved, broken of all our dreams;
When the embers of all we are
Blow cold the truth of these, our desperate sentimental, autumn hours.

TS Lefort. February 2020