When all I see today is back to dust
Along with me, and mine; when all I’ve earned
Is spent, and what it bought decayed or burned,
Or waiting out the years in silent rust;
When my ambitions die, as die they must;
When lessons of today are all unlearned;
When intellect has flickered out; when spurned
Are all life’s details over which we fussed,
Oh will this smile of yours I love be, too,
Concealed; all locked within one grain of sand
That moves in fright each time the winds shall blow?
Your smile a waste?–This love of mine for you
Sees flowers blooming in that distant land
All sweeter, for their having you to know.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, November 28, 1945
