Pulled from a life some leaves in evergreen
Or dressed like fragrant crinoline draped
Over shadows by di Chirico, stolen
From a station where trains never run
And set up in a tableau in the parsonage at Haworth
The three sisters with Chekovian overtones
Stood round the table where their mirrored forms
Await the blast of the last judgements call to make them
Take that final walk across the heather mantled moor.
Down vain corridors I searched for some leaf token
Of a life unlived, a faded mignonette or four leaved clover
Down a pathway closed forever by the twists of fate:
The shadows of you gone still took the night
And I was left alone to face the painful light.
