Six from Sevenoaks
G. Bachlund
On New Year's morn -
yesterday so far away
now in the dawn.
Up soared the owl -
a last bough waved
to hail a new day.
Later snow
buried the nightingale
and my hopes.
Death
is a captive
guarded by you
and my love.
In the light of morn
I saw your body's shadow
lying on my bed.
He broke his silence
to pieces
to share it.