Across deep waters and unforgiving tides,
Like a limpets refusal to move aside,
Clinging the taffrail of imaginary life,
Inhaling without future, like a stoic waif.

As endorphins circulate this enigmatic mind,
Deficient in purpose, struggling to unwind.
While marram grass holds the sand-dunes of hope,
So our fingers are crossed, the inevitable to cope.

We were but witness to your strengths remaining days,
And could only dream on what you’re seeing.
Was it practicing pages from unknown stage plays, or,
Stained glass church frames, penny candles, dancing flames.

As winter months awaken from dormant care, while,
Standing beneath this litch-gate, with moistened eyes to bear,
I will wait until you part, and all the stars I see loose heart,
And cloths of dampened tears to dry,
Return each year to question, Why?

Inscriptions chiselled on a white marble plaque,
Gold letters reserved for our Makers mark.
My dreams appear scattered amongst the debris of life,
Parading with masquerading smiles,
A consequence of inner strife.

You gifted me your unused smiles,
Tantalising moments of dissimulated files,
Accepting closure of a world I know not,
Broken heart’s remembering, Times of Camelot.