How gently she moves
       through my mind
an image without words
       a fleeting presence
and how the quiet returns
       in moments of respite

Who among us
       has never loved in vain
has never fought
       for a cause that was
doomed to failure or turned
       an eager hand
for it to come
       to naught

But there is no pain
       in the imagining
or when we shake down
       the dust of distant days
Our dreams our hopes
       wind in circles that recur

old tunes rattled out
       on an ageing gramophone
the long-legged flies
       that scuttled across
the shallow pond’s
       smooth summer surface

our lives a convoluted
       race against time
and all the while obsessed
       with truth and beauty
a lonely face that flashed
       before my eyes
a whisper barely heard
       before it dies

John Lyons