Variations on an old standard.(Poem)

 
Variations on an old standard 
 
   Come let us kiss. This cannot last-- 
   Too late is on its way too soon-- 
   And we are going nowhere fast. 
 
   Already it is after noon, 
   That momentary palindrome. 
   The mid-day hours start to swoon-- 
 
   Around the corner lurks the gloam. 
   The sun flies at half-mast, and flags. 
   The color guard of bees heads home, 
 
   Whizzing by in zigs and zags, 
   Weighed down by the dusty gold 
   They've hoarded in their saddlebags, 
 
   All the summer they can hold. 
   It is too late to be too shy: 
   The ...