He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed the trees to bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud’s folding.
He will come like frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth
opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.
Question – Do you feel like life is passing you by and each year gets quicker, the weekends never seem long enough, the hours spent at work get longer and you just don’t have time to spend with your children who are growing up so quickly? read on →