No more does love caress my soul,
kiss the roses growing tall,
no more a smile to light my eyes,
or laughter's lilt to lift my heart.

No more the songs of birds to fly,
but broken wings; notes to die,
no more does love lift me to soar,
just whitened ash upon the smoke.

In faded embers passion lies,
from far off whisperings silence cries;
and gentle touchings in embrace,
feel only vacant, barren space.