Midnight memory – another sonnet

A child might ask “Does the sky ever run out of rain
and if so, where does it go to get more?”      and I think
does time ever run out of time       and how might that
happen, and if it did, what then?
                                              Streaks of sunlight
on the lawn and people are charring their summer meats
over hot coals and the dog is chewing at an old bone
and somewhere a speaker is churning out the popular
hymns of all our yesterdays          and Jack in the house
that he built thinks of the cow with the crumpled horn
and how strange
                    it is for you to be gone and simply be nowhere
like a never-ending silence          that descends upon the planet
and he tries to recall the features of your face       the sad eyes
the hair      the shape of your mouth but the dust is creeping in
deep piles of it heaped around
                                              your faithless midnight memory

John Lyons