The Passing Star (an opus one)

You wander as a passing star
high above, beyond all earthly care;
I knew you in our younger days
when we were lovers, long ago.

In the park, beneath shade trees,
the golden daffodils once bloomed,
but that was many years in the past,

and they no longer sway and bow
in a warming summer breeze. Autumn's
chilly winds took their bloom and scent,

and now, Death’s even colder hand
took away your breath and clutched
your slowly beating--and then silent heart.