Eternal hunger, following the feast,
Is worse than starvation.

Cold and grey, like the home-ocean,
Northern, sunless, peaceful,
Is Anglesea.

I remember rain and cold weather,
Autumn fog, and pubs and busses,
Imagine myself a Saxon sailor
On the border of love, and despair.

When love is not enough, silence and solitude -
The last defense against dissolution –
Like ice, preserve the corpse,
But give no life.

When we both know it,
But we won’t say it,
And all we have can’t fix it,
Then all we have is tearful, loving silence.

I am at peace:  the dead I buried.
But I long for the grey, sunless waters
Of Anglesea.

1977