Morning opens
sleep drowsed
into grey.
You, on tube, on train,
in coffee queue
watching life from
deep brown eyes.

The other you
is walking dogs
across a heath
throwing ball into
the future, stridently.

So many “yous”
so many “days “ to
fight for and bequeath;
marooned in solitary
splendour.

My heart’s a
citadel to faith
where the storm
troopers gather
each and every day,
to charge a crack
in the liniment.

I look inside
outside me,
watch my hands
across a page, search
my patterns on the mirror
of your face.

Soon, like you,
I’ll be a memory
a breeze upon
a star filled gaze
a word engraved
in empty space.

An epitaph, an effigy.