I need

...but have been too long alone
untouched by desire
the presumption of love
in joints of dust –the lame of lust

So...

Unseen
Years creep by
Silent, numb

No one remembers
who I was

Raising my eyes
to the window—
–a flock of sparrows rise as one
into a gray sky
of mind

Beauty left by the back door of day
unnoticed in fading light

A dull ache
is all

It was already midnight before we got to midday
a dark and solemn way into the weekend,
almost a funeral and that should not be,
said the funeral director at five minutes past
three.

Pathways hidden the tincture lost
The sanctuary of a garden singed
by frost
A crisp morning air the tranquillity
The toned down colours of a muted
sea.