Concluding lines

our book is read,
our candle burned,
our road run out,
our paths have turned.

our chemistry
seems neutralized,
our poles no longer
magnetized.

i walk inside,
you look at me,
i think i've fallen
from your tree.

once i had
a magic touch,
but now seems
i lack so much.

i won't forget
the things we felt,
the times i watched
your green eyes melt.

November 1981