The Nature of Things

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THE NATURE OF THINGS
(for Jenny)

Loss is loss, futile
to call it anything
other. New age
twittering will not
help. 28 years old
my niece moves round
the house with grace
& confidence, marvels
at a frail old neighbour
who, heyday, modelled
nude for a well-known artist.

Hitler’s men stole many
treasures, some lost for
ever, though the Ghent
altarpiece was found
& is back in place
but that is art & I
declare flesh. Time, like
war, takes its toll. In
my decline, small solace
except this life-spirit’s
absurd & unexpected
comfort at youth’s
astonishing vitality.

Harvey McQueen

My latest poem. It's origins are obvious; see the last few blogs.
Harvey

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