Morning

Morning openssleep drowsedinto grey.You, on tube, on train,in coffee queuewatching life fromdeep brown eyes.The other youis walking dogsacross a heaththrowing ball intothe future, stridently.So many “yous”so many “days “ tofight for and bequeath;marooned in solitarysplendour.My heart’s acitadel to faithwhere the stormtroopers gathereach and every day,to charge a crackin the liniment.I look insideoutside me,watch my handsacross a page, searchmy patterns on the mirrorof your face.Soon, like you,I’ll be a memorya breeze upona star filled gazea word engravedin empty space.An epitaph, an effigy.