In life I shall not hold you again-

I've held the box your ashes are in-

But I can't take death on the chin...

Though seasons turn it shan’t be hard

To see those last years out

Must find things different, catch them starred...

This is my favourite kind of weather

Rumbling, thundering, broody sky.

The rain and lightning...

This is the first Spring I remember

I don’t feel hope. You died in spring

And surely that one kept an ember...

The tears I’d gladly pay

To hear you play once more!

- I shed them anyway...

It's good to stride out with your lover at dusk

The sky is still luminous with purple clouds drifting...

Stepping out from the wooden shed

Before me’s the garden (and then the house)

There's every shade, from deepest red...

I came here in the car

Looking on the land

And thinking about trees...

No, it could never be the same-

And yet the cherry tree two doors down

Exploded in pink as if to drown...

Well, are there words to tell it all?

On eighty odd years to set the seal, 

One aphoristic phrase to call...