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?