A Passing Fancy

I know now
Looking back with some clarity
That all of our grapes
Our wine
And even our bedsheets
Would have turned sour
The romance
Once shimmering
Dazzling
And electric
Would have grown old
Tedious
And moldy
The high sounding promises
Vows
And love songs
Would have subsided
Becoming nothing more than whispers
Moans
And the jingle jangling sounds
Of wind chimes
Bothered
Now and then
By light breezes
Nothing more
Than a passing fancy