Days pass by as they always have
And just like then they always will
Though one thing lies undying
A memory of sweetest tastes,
of brightest dreams, of loving seams
Nothing was easier than such raw feeling
Fueled and burned through words of love
Like the brightest lamps of kerosene
Brought comfort like a mother to her child
Yet fragile, thoroughly inexplicit
Unexplained treasures, lied beyond those eyes
Confidence, endurance, fond for matched old souls
Found have you the other half?
Yet blot can you my oldest fear
You are but truly, my Guinevere.