In time of Cold...the Leaves will fall.

I remember when I was young,
How the spring came and went
On the field outside my house.
I knew no further.

Tadpoles and pipistrelles were
the stuff of legend then.
The bells, they rang day or night;
and many a young man did not
come back from the fight.

Now, I am something else.
But not entirely changed.
As with everyone.
As with everything.

I wonder where all the flowers
have gone?
My friend ages in a reclining chair.
Some do it down the barrel of a
Some languishing in a hot tropical

Counting days.
We ask ourselves if regreting pays.
The cold north wind takes away
the midday haze.
Covers it in frost to bring forth
sapling wine.
Ony the wise know the secret of
this rhyme.

I can live with decaying...
I can live with time.
I cannot live without ending.
No death would mean we
might be sealed.
Sealed in blood.
Blood and grime.

The plants are wilting now...
growing now.
The rain has washed their petals
into soil and clay.
The wind has carried precious seeds away.

The great ocean, far off, beckons.
From a distance, across the tidal sands
I hear an oystercatcher's cry.

Piercing me.
The tears they come without water,
without sobbing cries.

I am no patriot.
I daren't take sides...

Empathy does well to kill my pride.
I have learned to aquiesce.
Learned I am that I am.

A friend, asks for my motive.

I hear my uncle:
"nine times out of ten:
find the motive and you find the criminal."

My crime...the wish to be free.
Each passing moment I savor
the ties that bind.

For Peggy and Mum

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Mind is the closest thing to our Reality...Be careful how you use it. Businessman, yogi, teacher, addicted to laughing...