98.

On the brink of simile I faced

The failure of words to describe the world

Ineffable as the horizon beyond the sea

The wash, where the fens were drained,

Rivers silted and ports waned, inconstant

As time and love. Blame it on time: something,

Someone has to give. The dark church of our heart

Stains the glass of the incoming light,

Glows over the graveyard, full of old loves

And broken hopes. The yew by the wall leans

Into the wind, your smile, the children

Play games down the path. The edge of time

Sharpens our bones, betrayal,

Ambivalence: yet your eye is firm.