When I learned that Adelor had died, a piece of me was buried with him.  I had seen Adelor at the zoo, twice since I moved to Chicago.  Thinking of Adelor brought back these memories with stunning force. I realized that those days of spring and summer, when all seemed well and dreams and Adelor both would never die, were over.  While the window to the past was not closed, the door was forever sealed.  There was no going back.  What a fool I was for thinking that dreams and lions never die, that we can wander the zoo past closing time, catching infinite glimpses of a king and his coat of gold dust.