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.