Life

Solace to roam among the stone

with fading sentiments of love,

or some simple record of each span spent,

and weighing whether ageing cups

buried here in hardened earth

if not to the brim

held enough to sip at least

and weren't forever dry.

Or worse perhaps, if broken shards

once bright and whole,

then scattered by a careless sole

lie mislaid in moss and nettle,

long now lost to all who knew

bar the bowing gate-side yew.

Yes, some slight comfort in soft imagined sighs

and whispers from the stretching past

of Love,

Dreams,

and Regret.

With pressing ears to catch reproach

for what is lost by all herein

though lives on yet

in fleeting gasps

by fools above

with time enough drink.