Full stop

Sad to think I’ll never write this poem again.

Very soon now, this line will end. The next one

sooner still.

And in a just a few moments, I’ll be typing

the final full stop


But how much sadder all those paths we’ve trodden –

I’m thinking of the last child of mine I hoisted

above my head, the last time I ran into bowl,

the last night we slept in each other’s arms –

not knowing we’d never pass this way again.