One of the earliest poems I can remember writing, from my teens.

“Love can never die”,


You said before you entered

And left me, empty

Averting your eyes


But I keep all your letters.

Sometimes their manner recalls your voice

Promising, apologising,

Struggling to explain the gap between

What you could conceive and


This paper yellows and curls yet

While the flickering hand feeds the fire

In time,

These words are only cinders


But I have made a place for them

Peter Jukes 1978


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