Time And Tide Poem by Aaron Marchant

I saw you, looking much as I'd remembered.
Though your hair, once a cascade of crimson,
now captive and constrained in sober conformity.
My name, a stranger to those kind lips
that long since, lavished forever kisses.
Oh, I am not so much forgotten.
But stowed in a mausoleum of musty love letters,
visited only by thoughts of fledgling folly.
Grown up games, weighted by advancement,
may not be troubled by wastrel romance.
I was the Fool that dreamed beyond the dawn.
These waking tears, will not dry before twilight.