Can we remember those we used to know? Or are they locked in misty time’s embrace? How quickly brightest colours fade and go The lines etched deep on even fairest face.
Is beauty marked by form and grace alone Or is there enchantment in the gentle deed? We cherish caring kindness in those we’ve known With whose help from despair we have been freed,
Perhaps, it is not the brightly painted lips Not the lustrous freely flowing hair Or the smoothly shaped and curving hips That haunt the failing memory and make us care?
No, it is longing eased by friendship freely given The gift made real for which we all have striven.
