04 December 2009



No escaping them and
they are blessed by
origins survival true

A fleeting glance cannot
allay devotion beaming
through reminding me

There is a life they say
in tones and colours
of the palest shades

And these mementos
blaze above the pyres
of love’s mislaid lament

Your sentence is to die
a thousand deaths with
each enamoured glance

I cannot look and try to
turn away – nothing left
but pungent memories
© 23 October 2009, I. D. Carswell