Autumn, now; simple words speak a truth about me
And lay me down; the banks of still water
Are metaphor without sound, and the trees
Are henna markers drawing a sky without clouds.

I think of the mist descending down from Lomond,
And words for that come easier, my love,
Than they do for any one of those moments
That I spent with you, in love; so clear now

That the "patterns in the ivy" were for us; how
They grow like pale roses through my life because,
I've found it all in you 'in that, even ancient language
Has leapt from my brow, simply feeling that, you lay your lips there,

And that all things must come to pass in that way; dare
I remember a day in life that I hadn't found you.

So thankyou, my love.
Mòran taing.


(For my fiance and darling Shah, whom I will love to the very end of me)

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