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.





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