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round about

in the space where once
a longing –
was nursed
a hungry cat
and edges there were left
to tell the world
of where the end
was ending –
who would tend the grass
and where the towels
were folded
with the grey

a rocking chair
and angry rings
to curse an ugly table
a crystal bowl
would hold your habits
well –
reminders of another
took my breath
for supper –
turned the bed
and never said
a thing

verses read
all over –
some I can’t pretend
are meant to hold
another fool
as I
forgotten to a season
passed me through
November –
cooled my brow
and left my longing
fire

. . .