How different:

How different it all
seems now; Gone the
mermaid tortoises fro
out of the loft of my
past; Gone the brazen
valleys of milking sun;
Gone the hydrangea
leaflets of what was
once my happiness morning.
All that remains is a
sarcophogus that grins
at my forlorn plight as
restless uncertainty
plunders the fields of
ageing rye.