Sometimes I think of the long days

Sometimes I think of the long days
And the soft nights,
Where silent flowers sway in the evening breeze.
All are dead now.
And when I think of you floating among the shady boughs,
I am saddened that there is no sun to mourn you.
The winter knows nothing of your passing,
Only bitter frosts and silver grasses.
You dazzled like a wraith,
Gliding on the gentle winds,
Whirling, whirling like a fairy dance.
It seems forever,
Since you flew fluttering,hovering,
Caressed by the morning light.
And I was glad for you.
You who lived at the pleasure of the wind,
And in the service of the sun.
Fragile,yet whose fragility
Was the essence of each day.
It seemed that God had made you
For his own and,
In his jealously allowed you,
Too brief a stay.
And in the turning
I found you have died away,
Wrapped up in the sad regret of life,
Under the withered leaves
Where life returns to dust.
And how I longed for yesterday.

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