Yes Poem by Brian Taylor

Meanwhile I have been:

cutting back brambles
where they clutch at the passing skin;

watching a golden sun
failing to find a cloud to hide within;

seeing your face
forgetting to be tired
and shining out across the decades
then hesitating,
(a tight-rope walker above Niagara):

walking in the Druids’ Grove
among ancient oaks in the cool of the day;

sitting in the French Gardens
as evening fades into mothlight
and the magnolia shines
and the last of the visitors
has long since gone.

Yes.
I have been
I am.