Why The Tears? Poem by Brian P FitzGerald

Through hopeless gloom and chill I stare,
With icy drops on branches wet,
No longer distant hills I see in sunlight glare
My memory dim, my eyes are blurred - and yet
I see my love and still expect
A little touch, and thoughts unchecked.

The fest'ring stench of death from life
Corruption pervades my soul
And darkly mirrors my inmost strife
My life devoid of meaning all,
From darkest feelings, no relief
My thoughts are filled with dismal grief.

The rotting leaves beneath my feet
And woodland drips, like tears, in winter's sorrow
My darling, my own, my sweet
Life's past years I cannot borrow.
Revenge I would against nature's toll,
And little does my grief assuage my soul.

It fills my heart, with cruel torment,
For opportunities missed; these I know,
They fill my soul, my tortured lament
The years have passed, regrets still show
And trouble my sleep; no longer the warmth
Of sweet embrace I feel, as alone in bed I lie.

My love, my life, lies bleeding in the past
I stand, I ponder, now alone I stand, alone,
My tears provide some comfort at last
My plight to all remains unknown.
Where in this world my future be
If no love there be to comfort me?

(30 August 2012 - East Yorkshire)