In my heart, a false fable starts
	 That 'tween two friends, so fair, so fast,
	 No rill of envy could ever pass,
No trickle winter could make crack.

Our summer was a million days
	 That on two shared pulses shone;
	 What was thought in the heart of one
The other's tongue found fit to praise.

Autumn's harvests had us chasing feasts
	 In distant dales neither knew;
	 The same sun and moon we saw
Overlooked our separate trysts.

December should have seen us come
	 Sharing triumphs round the table
	 Laughter-laden as a fable,
Strong in joy to a single home.

Too-far our wayfaring had swum,
	 Crests and valleys and the green roar
	 Held us apart forevermore,
Derelict, adrift, who had clung.

Iron frost the great granite breaks,
	 Too-cold sap splits the broadest tree
	 In solemn singularity;
Alone falls the proudest rock.

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Poems in pieces

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