I have lost count, Love,
Of these perfect evenings,
Fine wine and good food seasoned with
Brahms and Finzi, accompanied by talk and
Laughter at the week's absurdities
And a silent melancholy at intentions
That stumbled as the days marched by.
Was it hubris led me here, to this plot
Made in the earth of so many empty years,
In which lie those naïve resolutions deferred
By tomorrow's promises of new beginnings?
And is it time, Love, wearied by these
Faltering thoughts and fraying memories,
Steeped in notes of black cherry and vanilla,
Cold ash where once fires blazed,
To put out this dimming light?
Is it time, Love, to step forward,
To go quietly into that unknown night,
Untrammelled by the burdens of expectation
That we hang upon our base desires,
To take that dark path to longest rest?
Is it time, Love?
Is it time?
8th March 2015
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Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...