Monday, 2 January 2017

A poem by Frances Sackett


The stars have kept their places
but youth has vanished, taking
all its haunting love songs.

We push age away but catch it
looming: faces of parents,
dead or alive, freeze the future.

But we are still in love.
The ‘other half’ - that hated phrase -
speaks to Death, asking how

the widowed one will gain their independence,
when independence is a childish whim
and only leaves one bond to form another.

And Death replies dispassionately:
The poison plant, the treacherous cliff,
fidelity is death in one another’s arms.

About Frances Sackett
I have written and published poetry for many years. Poems have appeared in numerous UK magazines and anthologies and I have a poetry collection called 'The Hand Glass' from Seren. I also write short stories and travel pieces.

1 comment:

  1. A well crafted poem. Sensitive and thought provoking.