Endings and partings…
The Slow Fade
Somehow we walked to where we’d met
In spite of my resistance.
I turned my head up to the sky
While you stood in the distance.
There was a thin, long, sweeping cloud;
A contrail, crisp against the blue.
It trailed behind an aeroplane
That mutely shot across my view.
At first this cloud was sharp and strong,
It’s shape was clear. It seemed as though
A solid bridge of white was formed
And that the bridge could only grow.
But as it lingered in the sun,
And as the wind tousled your hair,
The contrail lost it’s linear form
And faded, till the spot was bare.
Now you look back down from the hill,
The mound we laughed on once before.
Your eyes began to sting with tears.
I left before they’d sting me more.
I wonder, could I disagree
If you denounced me cold and cruel?
But what we had was like that cloud . . .
And we? We had both lost our fuel.
meander with candour 