! ! Look Back With Ancient Eyes (Sonnet 6) Poem by Lorenzo Costigliolo

I cannot look upon your face but weep
when thoughts of what I might have meant to you
pervade my spirit long after I keep
appointments with our empty rendezvous.

The fields and shores that could have been the bed
upon which both of us could sleep by night
or play by day the games we love instead
became the silent grave without the light

your beaming eyes and moistened lips, your breath
exhaling sighs that whisper secrets, deep
entrenched within a soul so deep that death
could not command them all depart from sleep.

So much as I might want you, being bold,
I cannot do so now: I am too old.