To the Beloved in Old Age

Say silently where we were when first we loved
And again speak only in words inaudible
Where we were when first we wept
And again where when our sorrow
Lay too deeply for expression

Time hides her machinery
Permitting only the sharpest turning points to show
Like babes peeping out from the bedclothes
And space so variously furnished
Like the shadow of an airplane passing over the landscape

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