Bent with weight

Trees pale reflectedin dark glow of meadowfloodedcolours of a lifetimeetched against your faceline by line I run my fingerdown each creaseask you to rememberhow they came to be,share with me the years we’vebeen apart.Autumns forty threeor more you first tookbreath uponthis earth when Iwas still a beating starin heaven’s itinerary,maybe I watched you fall to form,you grow at mother’s breastthose far flung years agohow would I knowwe’d come to this?Day traces dayagainst this end of yearyou walk by tinted lakeand I am here in city’s bustle;but still each moment in mind’s eyeI touch the creaseskiss the contoursshed the tears, and yet againI wait,like autumn trees devoid of leaveswho breakif asked to bear too much.