By dawn, sadly, you’ll be gone.
Mist, translucent in hue drift
To minstrel’s tune in auburn air.
I lay feeling your warmth upon
my spirit. Slowly the change
from young to old complete.
Swimming up through rivers of
Time, not drowning and still
Without one single goodbye
You leave the branching hang
From bough and I watch you rise
Through ragged light as day slides
From the night; majestically, gone.
©Julian Clarke 2016