#8

The days have passed the sun is setting
ladled along the lilting river sweep
along the tender traipse of my regretting.

I watch burnt umber as I'm forgetting
what promises made that I must keep.
The days have passed the sun is setting;

one last warm breeze, a gentle letting
then, breath released, I pass to sleep
along the tender traipse of my regretting.

Oh the stars, the moon -- the heavy petting
in the embrace of indigo hot and deep
The days have passed the sun is setting

Tongue on tongue, then flesh awetting
alone forgotten while love I reap
along the tender traipse of my regretting

Dear fantasy retreats upon evening's feting
I do not dare smile. I do not dare weep.
The days have passed the sun is setting
along the tender traipse of my regretting