POSTCARD

I write you a postcard like I do every year,

but now you have no forwarding address…

I know that you still exist somehow

and that your stilled heart

shadow-beats in time with mine,

but I wish you were here

and could see through my eyes

how sunset overtakes the world

and the pewter sea swings softly

under a gun-metal dull sky

as day recedes like the tide.

The windows of the houses

across the bay are illuminated,
strung-out fairy lights,

splashes of orange and green

gilding the water,

like stars against the face of the night,

or life against eternity.