Memories to Slay

I remember little now of major things,

At work within the body and the head,

In the garden where the love-struck sparrow sings

And the places that we marked for those long dead

Companions of our lives who loved us once

When all our days held promises so bright.

As drifting clouds the slowly passing months

Of reverie and muse saw our delight.

Far now those faintly luminescent hours

And love that could not die when death drew close

To snatch the body as one gathers flowers,

Towards the heights I cannot see, she rose.

I hear the sounds of spring outside my door

And sit in brief reflection and I long,

Long with all my laboured breath to soar,

But sorrow and grief have robbed me of my song.

The new leaves glisten in the gusty breeze

Yet I grow old and fragile as the day

That yields to darkness with a vague unease

With hosts of sunlit memories to slay.