when you & I were young

we would press our white faces from the car

& the rain on the windows would run through the gathering dark


& the lampposts shone & dogs would run into the dying frame

where the park was glowing dimly through the silence of the lanes

& the radiators hum rose above the falling leaves

where so fragile & so young you had drifted into sleep


I've been for a walk

& every face I see seems to be mine

night-time comes

the birds have flown

a fever glows in every line


I love this season

this weary night

the flint the dreams the silent pines

the eeriness

is in the feeling

that I have finished everything


& a child from the school was running back to her car

& her white face cried she was deaf & afraid of the dark


& the whispering house grew still as we stared into the night

in the garden & the lamps & the window's fading light

& though Christmas was the same, we had seen another year

turning softly through the flames