A solitary figure in the new morning's chill
The fires of past life are with me still
Textured by age blurred by mind
Like a caress familiar, subtle and kind
Between the ripples flow forgotten days
Memories turn to vapour by the spring sun's rays
Floating in air they obscure the sky
Their reflections fade with the young hour’s sigh
Monuments to the years are the structures of stone
Season upon season they stand pale and alone
Ambling through green in this comfort place
Unchanging time is this landscape's grace
Scott Robinson
July 1988
