Once, in passions' periods
Of dawned desire--dreams
Dimmed distant decades down
Those uphill years burned eager, yearned
To gather (grand as gifts--
Yours!) crafted manuscripts:
Annals, as late-lifted sharings...
...Then, through Children-crowned days
(Nights of unslaked passions)
He's sketched novels, stories,
Verse (operas d'amour!)...
Most for You--and Children, Love,
Would-be trophies burnished
Gleaming in his ardors,
Potent-polished with his prides...
Now, memories meek-muted
Still, study-shelved mumbled works
(Worlds webbed in wonder-years):