Delightful in their youth, they were but the many winters have stolen from them halcyon days now a blur and the butterflies of the fallen We behold them in fascination captured in cellulose by frame the crème de la crème, a sensation of a bygone era of fortune and fame Is it not cruel that the magic fades quick as the blush of vernal maids? That mine old eyes so jaded to drink from eternal torrent could no longer be persuaded see only the abhorrent? Thus I find once again my way to Zen a path left behind for old men to let go of what may not be held forget what Providence withheld But her face burns me still though I long ago relinquished will [28-VI-2010]