These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Dark of Night

Cheapened words, deeds forgot,
long ago, then made what's not.
Sparkling eyes, remembered joys,
dusty love, 'though once employed.

Whispered tropes, the turning head,
shadowed tears, fear hope is dead.
Olding age with memory lost,
love once young may be the cost.

Innate flame, that lit her fire,
glances piqued this heart's desire.
Flabby features hold not much
to warm the face, to spark the touch.

To fade into the dark of night,
to hang the head at love's own plight,
to make again the love we knew,
before cold's done, before bliss' through.

Such agony to reach heart more,
to draw young love through old age door.
To grow our lives as once we’d do,
before we're gone from what we knew.

by Jay O’Toole
on July 21st, 2025