What do you do when Time has neglected to inform

that there has been an ache in your heart

which you never realised existed till the pain

hits you square in the jaw and rips your guts apart?

You can but smile and flash a grin, because you mean that emotion,

you revel in the mysterious and the unanswered question

for a short while until

Time has a habit of making you nod and securing a truthful exit

as you realise that deep down gnawing at your soul,

that you have missed out, messed up and mingled in the abandoned,

that you have been left behind once more.

 

I sat and watched with an iron will in which to hold you close,

in which to declare my love for you

and to suggest, recklessly, that at some point,

Time and the clock were brutally misinformed,

that deep down and above the surface

you missed those you never had the chance to see

in their pomp and glory and for that Time is indeed

a bastard for it takes the wrong moment

but offers reward that is so fleeting,

it is spent before it had the presence of mind to announce

that you had it in the palm

of your hand.

 

I have not only missed you, I still need you,

I require with tears

in this unholy mess of a man who fears nothing

but that Time is unkind to you and who

will rage at your passing and the Ghosts that leave their mark.

 

The Ghosts of Time, bitter and twisted and full

of undeserved applause, will never rip the shadow

that sits patiently between us.

Ian D. Hall 2015