To Carolyn – on our Golden Wedding
‘. . . If gold ruste, what shal iren do?’ Chaucer
The years fade and merge in memory -And the living and the dead,Accidents and incidents slip and sideTo form a kaleidoscope of fractured truth.We are not, in so many ways, what we wereIn the spring time of our lives,And time has tarnished what we once were:My form has always been somewhat brittleBut time my love in all his winter-spite has neverRobbed you of your real enduring worth -For gold will never rust.