And so they speak, as only two
Who’ve known the end of love can do;
For darkness falls, they’ve come to see,
Without our real complicity.
And one might not suspect that hearts
Still had such room for giving;
Or that life on the edge of days
Had so much room for living.
But there, the sunset gentle falls,
The mountains fade from sight —
And aging swans still feel the breeze,
And know the joy