TO BLUE

A desultory morning bobbed amongst

The ripples of ache and longing

Skirting the shores of your thoughts

And arrived at this evening ennui 

Tomorrow never comes 

I hope tomorrow never will

Now all I want to think is that you love me 

And pray for solace in that uncertain claim

Time

As the hours grow quaint

... faint, even

And weariness and crow's feet 

Emerge in morning mirrors

'Ten years hence' 

Looms like a phantom 

How would I remain that

Which you desire?