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


Douglas Clark/ Intrusion/ Benjamin Press, 69 Hillcrest Drive, Bath BA2 1HD, UK/