An April morning in silence crept past the night

but she the dreamer had woken and found 

lodged in her mind a bare line...

 

At once she knew it was a poem's title

as an egg in a nest is known to be sacred

and more- from her other world- she'd seen it

writ large for scholars on the old blackboard

 

When she told me- yes, forgive me

I am the most fortunate of men-

I knew I would follow where her poem would lead

 

How long love be enchanted ?                  

How far from understood?

The joyous time of a photograph

within reach is left untouched.

 

How long love be enchanted?                  

How does the kindled flame persist?

Circling days have never settled

Or learnt to give all they promised.

 

When these lines were formed, forgive me

I was pleased with the design

I yet feared my lesson had hardly begun

 

At once I knew well the great value

as an eagle on the wing is known to be great

and more, there must be more, I felt it

fly closer at the edge of vision

 

An April evening is overtaking the day

she sleeps once more in my heart's lore

How long love be enchanted...