This is the longest he’s written on a page,
A story the good the bad, and sometimes mad.
Each inspiration floats one fallen grace,
Carves a story seldom told and hardly spoke.
With each depart her essence remains,
He’s left to feed on the remaining scrapes.
Each word deeply and freshly etched in his soul,
Her presence burns his decayed pages of yesterdays to flames
– 28 April 2012