Old wounds Pawns of a century's neglect The trees bare of leaves As an Autumn's passing My faded heart I bury with the rose Relics of day's contentment This house the carriaged clatter Oil lamps candle at the door Greatcloaks smothering the visitor Here an intruder from generations Sips sherry in the afternoon A refuge from time's momentum Here where sacred hearts impaled old wounds This Georgian mansion shelters tapestry The plans for derangement Framed in a lonely coffin I would pass this way at the year's end Clomping through snow --- up the gravelled path And ring the rusty doorbell If you were to come it would be the same We would rest in the drawing room Visitors on a journey Found haven in the world's youth And if you did not come I would idle over my afternoon Playing kings and queens in memory We have so very little Red ivy creeps the walls But all our memory now faded The heart is buried with the rose 1969
Douglas Clark/ Intrusion/ Benjamin Press, 69 Hillcrest Drive, Bath BA2 1HD, UK/ d.g.d.clark@dgdclynx.plus.com