Cinders

A fall too far,
Too far … and
Far too fast
From a wall
Too Heaven-high tall:
From butterfly belle brilliance
To double-dull
Dust.

It’s rocket-rate race
From rock to ruin;
Too quick,
Too Devil-drive quick,
From pistol-shot
To tape:
From innocence
To grief.

Sudden-slap
Midnight-shock realisation;
Slipper slip
Staircase sprint
Takes little time,
Maybe none,
But it’s all
The time you had.
Before returning
To cold ashes
Once more.

30/12/2012