Monday, February 10, 2014

My Yearly Friend


You were waiting for me
On Beaufort St
Somewhere, there
I don’t know where
You fell in step

Grey and dreary
Soft as fog
A leering greeting
Another year!
Once more we meet

I know you now
Though still surprised
At the speed you arrive
Five years
And still you come

A male Persephone
I will go down
A consort in
This underworld
Of grief

So come my yearly friend
Do your worst
Rake your nails
Across my soul
Tear the scabs from my heart

Know this my friend
Grey grief who comes again
I have learnt a thing or two
I have learnt
I will survive

When my tears turn to ice
And I disconnect from life
Know this I will arise
I will come up from this
Underworld of grief

And you, my friend
Will again depart
Soft as fog
While I will bless
The sweet fragrance of life


No comments:

Post a Comment