I am lost in your gentle spirit, the sweet smile,
the chiseled face.  
Memories flood back upon the tide of time; once I was yours, you were mine.
A poisoned arrow flew between us and neither of us knew of words that either could understand.
So no words were spoken, and one day you came, and upon that night you left.

Forty-four years would leave me wondering what or where time had taken and hid you.
And though those years have built their own array of images and memories.
None have erased the softness of that first kiss, the embrace and the desire that manifested.
So when I saw you, heard your voice, and wrapped my eyes around all of the yesterdays, I knew:

I had never truly realized until our reunion how sincerely and deeply you had moved me.
But now, deep in reflection I hunger for those moments within our youth, before the world caved.
You and I were two white doves fleeing from the night in hopes of capturing the whitest white.
And now, here we are, one free, the other bound.  Is it possible to let it go, let it be?

I have the answer, all I need is the question that I fear will never come.
Is life too tainted by what we now know was the reason of that poisoned arrow?
Can I come to you in complete unveil and assure you that we can complete our souls?
Or is it too much too expect that there is nothing now, only the haunting hunger of our past?