The passage of time changes everything, and in the maturity of older age are we not allowed to mourn what was?

Lovers Holding Hands






The sun shines down and penetrates my life.
Hot is my tear-stained face… as is my all-consuming loss.
Shining, burning, on all of me that loved and stayed,
And on all of me that time has left betrayed –
That time: when flowers magic’ed my virgin eyes
And we would lay watching naught but passing air
In a cloudless, calming and even sky,
On pasture arome’d of hay and sweet stalked grass.

Beating, beating, throbbing down upon us two,
To lighten dark night to bright blossom’ed day…
And she was loving all my love, my love, my love,
Her thrilling fingers ‘twined as one with mine.
And her lips of pink pink straw’berries
As soft and as smooth in a kiss divine…
And she spoke all the words I ever had needed –
Made she all the sounds that enchanted my ears.

Thrusting, thrusting, thrusting throughout
To burn and penetrate my ageing skin…
But I weep – I cannot help myself – for that love.
For thoughts of how that love then inflamed.
When skylarks twittered high: twittered high above
Those welcoming fields of waving Summer grass;
When youthful blood fulfilled our throbbing veins
And we were one above, below, inside, above all else.


© griffonner 2020


© griffonner 2023
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2 years ago

A beautiful poem to end the site’s submissions in present form, one of the best I’ve seen on here. A superb write, reminiscent of a wonderful time and feeling for many of us!

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