The oasis to which my ageing mind flees when threatened or depressed.
My lady at twilight
My vision’s crepuscular world is now part lit
That grey garden, my mind, thrice-fold twilit.
Leaving me lost in a twilight world of my own,
By my parents’ thrice-lit seeds was it sown.
Those seeds of life blossomed in May
A different bright memory each day.
From all of them their flowers grew taller
As their roots, my brain, shrank ever smaller.
So now with only my past life and my sighs,
Through the dim twilight dream of my eyes,
All my straining vision can see is part shady.
Save the face of my fairest, sweet lady.