Reflections

Raise high the glass of love to me
and let me taste its last remains:
old passion's pain aroused once more
surrounded by it sweet refrains.
O shattered fragment of lost love
come close to me in vague revue,
and mirror once again your love
before I remember that we're through.
And if you see upon my face
a silver tear before you fall,
kiss gently there before you go
and say, "He loved her best of all."