the boys are gone

the boys are gone and
the chairs stand empty
at their Thursday meet
we cannot cheat the grave
or save ourselves from
their fated journey
but i'll miss our talks and
sunny walks around
the green, green park
with your little black dog
who loves those squirrels
and you the best
it's time to rest
dear neighbour
time to rest

she is the mystery

she is the mystery of a
falling leaf
on the greenest grass of
love
in the autumn of
my life
oh silver-aged
days yet to be claimed
spoken only in the words and
looks of youthful hearts
under an October tree
witness of our love and
earth's gift of
one another