But Once

                                                      by  Richard Swallow

     On quiet evenings                                             
 I often sit in solitude
       with naught but the fragile light
     of twinkling stars
to keep me company
     and

         it is in such peaceful moments
      that I reflect
                upon my past
      and upon the people in it
  who have made life 
          for me
         such a wonderful experience . . . .
There are those
    my Love
           who would live again
   their lives
       and make changes
    and do other things
      but not I
 Not I
    my Love
for I could never be certain
   that you
  would pass again 
      my way
       and my new life
   would be that much lessened
 without your having been in it
          my Love
How could I possibly chance that loss?