The Old Year


The Old Year
( for the nameless good)

Silken time falls from fingers to tired to hold them now
So many knots untied and unravelled before nightfall
People climb slow stairs, My arms lift great weights as if only
Simple silk gauzes.
I am transformed by love
By making a difference
I am held aloft like a dancer on a partner’s arms
You may know me but I go deeper
Into tidal pools and great distances of gold light –

I escaped long ago
My eyes see without cruelty.


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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