Maybe Now It’s Far Too Late (In Answer To Robert Browning) Poem by Gert Strydom

Maybe now it’s far too late
to tell you about what you meant to me
and I am closing the garden gate
where your flowers still grow with an own dignity.

You hair at a time was gleaming with gold,
you face glistened with a sweet smile
but that was in distant days and now I am getting old
and I am lingering for a short while

again caught in memory,
but your hand, your presence I cannot keep
and in another world from me you are free
but in reality in the earth’s bosom you do sleep

and we loved each other for a short while
but I have lived on and on since then
have sailed like you dreamt to do on the Nile,
have known both good and evil men

but sometimes in other faces it’s your eyes that I see,
in something that is much more than just a memory.

[Reference: Evelyn Hope by Robert Browning.]