The Cliff

As each year passes, more is worn away. Inch by inch and stone by stone, the edge creeps closer. Every day we check our boundary hedge. I know it won’t be long before it falls. Your hand is slack in mine. Each night brings gales and spattering squalls; but when dawn comes, its shreds of tattered light show roots still clinging over empty space. This morning, when I wake, it’s dark and still. I think I see the outline of your face but greyness slowly fills the room until I realise. You’ve slipped down to the sea. There’s nothing next to me.