A will-o'-the-wisp of wind flowed lightly past her face
Leaving a tiny droplet descending in a minute' trace
As if a teardrop from Niobe was escaping somehow
And I would tell her of her beauty but I don't know how....
Her full lips parted slightly in a graceful curving arc
I looked into her eyes and there was the same old spark
That in ancient days was more of a sparkling fire
A darling with dimples and daring and desire....
There were tiny lines by her eyes, crinkling as if from care
Perhaps too many painful memories gathered there
Essence of sadness wafted through the electric air
Just a trace in her eyes of some long past love affair....
All the fancy words for beauty seem meaningless and frail
Even were I to invent them, their description would fail
To encompass the whole of her exquisite joie de vivre
...I should try to speak to her before she takes her leave....
My paean to her presence was a stuttering word or two
I made futile attempts to approach, not knowing what to do
Then the train's conductor sent forth the words, 'all aboard'
As she faded from my life, a sigh was all I could afford.....
