dark sorrow

Darkening Sorrow
It was a strange summer I wouldn’t say reluctant
But rather old fashioned, rather like an old man
Crossing the farm yard with a slice of bread in his
Hand to give to the horse by the wooden fence.
It was not a summer that will be remembered by
Bathers by the beach, the sea was cold that year
Often there were bands of cerulean silk scarves
On the sky keeping the day from being too hot.
We walked everyday although our walks became
Shorter and we didn’t go to the river as usual.
You had gone in September and I had got a buyer
For the house, alone it was pointless living there.    
I will be moving into an idyllic home for the aged,
And from the window see your resting place.