You awoke from a dream that I died
the heartrending sobs when you found me not there
– how wrong I was, to be as easy of my passing.
I was resetting the clocks
borrowing back from the Sun
his enjoyment of our company
over the summer mornings.
He’d invested his borrowings
in the fresh tomatoes and apples of my breakfast.
If time is borrowed, so are we.
Worn and drained, I’d thought of Rest
– how wrong was I, to be as easy of my passing.
I had not been mindful of your unease.
I turned back time, just an hour for the autumn,
I wish I could turn back more to pay you dividends in better fruit.
Dave, Sunday, 27 October 2013, when the clocks had just gone back.