Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

November falls, leaf blown and drab with early twilight; 
did I in some haste to feel the Summer balm 
speed acceleration of the old main drag, 
burn youthful currency as a hated flag? 
I stand in the ruins of age untreatable, 
staring forward at the unknown, 
staring back at the unrepeatable. 

Wood smoke veils snatched away by a fleeting breeze, 
the faintest aroma tarries, then vanishes, 
and I can't for the life of me put a pin in the map, 
to highlight the junction where sprang a mishap. 
The sickly downward trajectory slide, 
the turning of misdirection, 
the turning of a sullen tide. 

All that is done is done, fractured without reparation; 
the clock cannot be challenged, nor chided to reverse; 
my life grows grimly fearful, ever shorter, 
and howls to reunite me with my daughter. 
I tell you that I love you, beg you re-materialise, 
to make up time I lost, 
to make up for the days gone by. 

From where I now stand, I can see forever, 
mute barking dogged decades of melancholia, 
projecting the error of my ways, 
inviting the penance of cold and lonely days. 
With black shades of regret in me, I struggle to explain 
how I need to feel you closer, 
how I need your love again...

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