Love and Death
Verses to Love and Death: IV
In fact we are at all times
At the point of death.
Though we may say,
‘There are years before us yet’
But think of years passed…
How little time, or none at all
Is taken by a space of memories.
Or perhaps it is that only pain
Takes place in time,
And all the convoluted nonsense
Written about time
Is useless
Before this one gutaching fact,
That we stand this side the racked gate,
Like deprived children sucking at fingers,
And peer at the country beyond:
The banks of heather, and the high
Beeches clumped upon the hills.
© The Estate of Ronald M. White
