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.