Firelight fades
into spring blossom, fragile:
a chill still.
Old friends call
sharing last flicker of today
filing brittle bone.
I understand age now
it creeps like tide
tick tock seconds:
sapping reason to believe
bringing longing
memory plague.
Of you I’m not convinced:
you tittle tattle
talk of innocence
but blood drip drips
from rheumy finger.
Spring falters but still
in high fields where
lambs nicker
there waits a promise
of something.