Although our love is over, it
An unfrequented garden in my heart,
Its beauty quite inseparable from pain,
A wilderness where once was willful art.
I hope a little piece of you is
Reserved for me, a place you may not go,
But where my room, untenanted, can fill
A moment with my music, sweet and slow.
There are no wishes like a former
That from the dark, repentant night must shine.
And so though we have both moved on to others,
I send you from afar this Valentine.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon