Late

You say,
‘trust you’
& I don’t.

As the leaves
fall from autumn
tree

as memory fights
back, & nothing
nothing can contain

the hand of fate.

It draws a circle
in the dust, it
underwrites

the twist of time
it whispers,
‘darkness follows light’

here winter’s night
moves on perpetually
blankets all in

frosty grip.

You say,
you love me
& if it’s true

where are
the sunshine
& the sea

a beach we want
to dance on?

Bricks n' mortar
are for youth
to build their

dynasties:

don’t you see
that we are
shedding

everything.

You’re grasping
at a breeze:

the years we’ve
left behind
haunt us.

You say
a myriad things
but all of them

are sand,

falling,
flailing
failing.