Wintering

Gone

Time bears us clear away, slower than dream
dissipates to the awakening day-
and is that all you mean to me, a stray
dirge-has-been, from all that steamy seem?

What was once true love is nothing at all;
so difficult to get head around it -
death in life; experience confound it.
Shop in the mall - yet all things there appal.

It's a tinge, a taste, binge of emptiness,
a draught no one can say they left ungulped.
Drink it every day, a habit stoops to prey.

So rosy hope drains out grey days of stress,
and never was a sweet word left unpulped:
shock reverberates in eternity

..............