Hand in hand we walk

in a darkness carved from light,

the plastic trees surround

bottle-green, shadowed props.

Granting me light to see words by,

you count my vapour in the air,

the lingering space of hollow thought,

my burning questions left to float.

 

Later I will raise a hand and place it,

solid on a high glass wall;

from the floodlit boundary line,

there I see you roam

detached and yet in tune to what

surrounds you; leaf by leaf,

yard by yard, a sentry of the night

gate-keeper of my wearied soul.