I am always counting.
I count breaths, days, months,
log the seasons as they go by:
spring, summer, autumn.
Only winter lies ahead.
I don't know why I count,
don't really know what I am counting.
Life is upside down and back to front
and I'm not sure anymore
if I am counting up
or counting down,
if I am counting towards something
or away.
But I count the days,
tick them off on the calendar
labelled 'After';
you ended as it began.
I don't want to count:
every day takes me further
from a day spent with you
and a day closer to
But I count anyway,
watching time pass by,
amazed by the number of
days survived,
amazed still that you died,
amazed I am still alive.
This time last year - falling in love as the leaves changed
at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park
No comments:
Post a Comment