Ian Beckett (love and life and death and sorrow poems) (8 June 1956 / Dublin)

Traces of memories we leave in verse,
Which capture moments in time, that
Become invisible, once they are gone.

Traces of what we are and do and can do,
In our life from the day we are born, until
We die, a summation of hopes and fears.

Traces are the sticky air between, hope
Fulfilled and the fears conquered, while
Life flows slowly towards an endless sea.