The Flowers of Youth
are growing brown
around your garden
the leaves fall and the buds
grow tight, no longer unfold

Bridges lose their
bearings and rivers
catch them falling
the splintered wood float
like so many boats drifting

Things decay, strength is
forgotten in the face of weakness
loneliness conquers even the
memory of
brighter hours
Soon your face will be a small
photograph almost like a stamp
on a very important letter

that I mailed to someone very far away