Lost Love Poem by Bill Grace

Before having a lover I loved
there was Susan
her memory carried
a decade shy of fifty years
and while I am old and withered to outward eye
she is green and fresh
a trick only memory can play.

It is unfair to recall antics
we were all more than a little wild
in our Berkeley days
I will shield her today
or even better yet pray
that she is well and gracefully growing old
our time was and has passed
perhaps all that God can ask.