On the table, white a cloth spread for tea.
Gathered fallen, home grown blooms, lie wilting
amid the evenings supper crumbs.
Outside in the fading light
tall poplars stoop to low, green upon green.
Dusk has fallen – chasing day lights end.
Mismatched knives and forks
chipped blue china
relics off a bygone age.
A crackling ember fizzles to powder grey.
Close the curtains –
come here beside me; and lay.
The clock ticks away these rare molten days.
You do know, that I love you now, as I loved you then?
Clouds oh, they have massed
veiled the us, from view.
Battles that we fought
with tired eyes; glancing each other down.
Sucked dry the marrow, from our bones,
the insidious hating of a love gone wrong.
Yet here we are
still caught in the extravagance of us.
Neither – desiring or requiring to be free…
Poppy August 2013