Spring Peach Blossom Poem by Mark Heathcote

We are anything but broken reeds, my dear.
age is a road narrowing out of sight
that's entering another stratosphere
but on the horizon shines just as bright
and love is a glowing spring peach blossom
whatsoever the season, its fragrance
I drink and cherish it like a poured libation.
to these gods, I give great thanks, loquacious
but singing like reeds disturbs even me
It is to you, your beauty, I now bow.
I'm rooted evermore as a detainee.
Standing tall and resolute with fervour
and if I sing, it's to you, you alone.
You, love, are my foundation, my roots, my home.