To die is sincere
Steps echo a cold preamble to coming winter.It permeates the otherwise silent inference of continuityI assent to with every step.Around me, all of life goes quietly -it lives regardless.Down the promenade, a single tree stands golden & brown against the dark.When the summer heath faltered;The birds deserted and its’ splendour was no longer needed, it was returned to earth.Now it stands in t...