Winter (Untitled)

The winter snows have fallen
And the branches are bereft
One day soon you will return to our beautiful house — all empty
No one will be there to love you in your old age
To comfort you in your weakness
As the shadows draw across your eyes
And the brave stride becomes the hesitant step.
I know not where I’ll be
Whether across wild passages of sea
In some quiet place where love grows in a garden
It will be enough for me
You are not there.

by Lorna Bain — December 29th, 1985