Held tight in grasp of circumstance
Laced with the sweetness of hay
Suspicion wore an old patched coat
For him the cradle never rocked
As flowers plucked too soon
He heard the drip of tears
Time wove its painful tapestries
And as the wings of summer drooped
His presence was unfelt
Touched by chords which played a tune
As swallows in December
He spoke with the tongue of silence
His pulses hammered in his ear
His troubles ploughed and trapped in furrows
And evil leaps with none to wrestle
The hour came when all fulfilled
Blindly fighting presaged impulse
As chalk that moves on slate defines
No answers written on her face
And in the silent flowing water
She floated to eternity