Occasional Impressions

Gemini 3

The imitation of love

Empty eyes ignite the ghost of yesterday;
panic pulses in, as love grows cold.
Joy has flown; dependence stands in place of it:
time for moving on is gnawing at the door.

Weary ears keep out the seige of bitterness:
keen-honed words which whittle down the soul.
Love's bright beginning mingles with the chaff of it:
time for moving on is gnawing at the door.

Wizzened hands caress the corpse of tenderness;
many-fathered children spoil the secret hope of joy.
Lust, not love, informs the mirrored self in drudgery;
time for moving on is gnawing at the door.
jdy

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