Not a thousand years, not lifetimes Between you and I. Just 30 years And I see you As a teacher instead of a partner, as embers instead of a fire. All that passion you felt Ages ago, will never be spent on me. The fire that lit in your eyes then Won’t even smolder for me. No amount of shared joys or grief Quiet conversations or dinners Will rekindle it or span the gap of a generation Much less an era. How meager a love must reside in us That we would choose pleasing untruths With a living true love two doors down And thirty years away.