Tide Turn Poem by Gordon R Menzies

Waterless place, this, tide-turn desolation
where once there was no thirsting, no want,
where your kisses overflowed the well wall
now, only echoes of disbelieve and emptiness
a profound wondering of the path to here
your girlhood, vibrant, has leaked away
and femininity has become an indifference
a flower failing to seed, knowing no purchase
the years before seemingly pointless bloom
and the ones remaining empty of purpose
and so in the slow descent to madness, I
am left wayside and wondering, beginning
in the midst of my own lonely solitude
to no longer recognize you as the source
of what was endlessly sensual joy, and
these days my own fire fails, satiated
instead, with books, and wine and memory