The Mortal Ash

Memories of affection, 
and its bittersweet pill.
Now I see you as ash, 
upon the grass, on the hill.

An innocent longing, 
whose readiness to believe,
Made her exposed 
to those who would deceive.

Patiently waiting 
for a man she wants to meet,
Taking up residence, 
there outside on the seat.

A life spent in search, 
but her love was refused.
Is it always good people 
who tend to get used?

A dance around the room 
on a New Year’s Eve.
You looked so happy, 
but I knew that I would leave.

Hundreds have said 
you’re a ‘lovely lass’ – that’s true.
I could never have stood 
as strongly as you.

Your journey should’ve had 
much longer to travel,
But oh, how simply, 
a life can unravel.

And shall I be reminded 
of fate’s cruel will.
When I think of you, out there, 
on the grass, upon the hill.


by Sam Bartle 
(© Copyright  Sam Bartle 2021)