It is just a saying

It is just a saying

It was just a book

Scholars wrote words

Many people read

Are they true

The things we talk

About in wonder

Do you believe

It is ever too late

Will it all lead

Inevitably unto death

Before we know

And then perhaps

It will not matter

There is no one

Left I would trust

To tell me

Deceit is a human frailty

Too easily framed

In honeyed language

Self-aggrandisement

Can be an unconscious act

Tell me who is fooling who

Unless it is you

I hear in the whisper

Of an empty room

The tinkle of bright water

Falling in a trickle

Through a stone rill

In an English garden

The way a bird calls

In greeting

As I walk by

Flowers bloom

For longer than they should

As summer days pass

Until heads fall

In sadness

The smell of happiness

Catching me off guard

In well remembered

Moments

Walking by the sea

The heat of your breath

On my neck

Are you really standing

Close to me

Or is the sophistication

Of sublimation

Needed to fill empty space

With meaning,

To comfort the time

Between meetings

Or the consequence

Of doubt

Before the gentle kiss

Of closing

Brings an imperfect

Unavoidable resolve

To what may

Or may not

Have ever been