Neither love nor loss are stilled
By the passing years and youth,
Nor the edges of that memory
Extinguished when the light fades
At the end of one cycle beginning
The next, nor doors closing on the
Darkness and desolation of it.
The square room has no sense
Of dimension, and lives grow
Out of shape in the silence of
Our grieving, and the doors fade
Into the background white of
Senselessness rationality demands.
Nor years nor age can diminish
Love or passion. The decades have
Rolled by, and we have changed past
Recognition by our younger selves
Who would not have expected this
To last that first night we fell
Into a ditch kissing, first on our
Way to yours, and then the way
To mine, where the next morning
Brought some kind of strange
Waking. It is later now, and
Further from then than either
Of our ages then. And still life
Has not managed to extinguish
What we felt that first time.
R 23/10/2023 21:22
Perhaps I should explain that it’s 34 years today that M and I first kissed. But then you knew that already, because I post the years gone every year on this date. It must be love.