(no subject)

[y0urotherleft]

Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,
Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended,
And then adieu, -farewell!- the dream is done,
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The colour and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;
But in your day this moment in the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun had set.

--A Sonnet from "Second April"
by Edna St. Vincent Millay