Past

Another year has gone, it just slipped away, Without notice or warning or eulogies to say. On purpose, I barely register its passing…only crack A bitter smile; A half-raised, quizzical eyebrow, maybe, laced with a brief Sense of a long forgotten once close friend Giving up the ghost. From starved tree branches the leaves tumble down, Sheets of rain guillotine on this dirty old town. I watch the autumn gale axing…havoc from The frozen North. I'm digging graves for memories, perhaps, meticulously fast, For they really need interment As they are the living dead. Funny, it's the first time ever, I realise I'm getting old, The heart misses beats and the room feels always cold. I see the lines etch on my face…gritted warp Of aching bones. And try as I might to shove longing and regret back into Their woodworm coffins, It does not keep the pain at bay When the past craves resurrection.