Spaces

          This was a time
          when we played with mudden toys
          and mounds of puffed rice
          and lit coloured candles
          on concrete balcony railings,
          and in the deep spaces
          of wooden-shuttered window sills.

          But this time the flames are higher
          and they are not fuelled by wax,
          but by the tortured wounds
          of the inner spaces
          of young minds.

          This time I have had to travel
          across ancient low hills
          to bring you back
          to familiar spaces
          where we have been before,
          on inner journeys.

          But this time,
          I am not there
          and you are alone,
          as I am