Everything draws to a close, all things –
words, wine, meetings with friends, evenings
pleated through with cursive laughter,
the delight of the deepest yearnings.
The flame that will choose to burn softer
before it drops down with the mothwings.
The breeze that feathers nights, after
the slow spiral of the hot mornings.
One by one the lines and the chapters
till the last, till there remains nothing.