Meagre aga stoves

She's pretty and vague and
pretty vague as the
leaves fall and fall leaves
making way for winter
warmer on
meagre aga stoves
where I’d mourn in the morn.

Puckered pots and
forget-me-nots forgotten
in the weather rotten
green
house housing
scribbled scribbles and
scrawled scrawls
and listless lists littered with
crosses across the crossed out
page.

Oh, she was a glimpse
then
of clover cloaked
rue riddled fields
amongst the dead and dying
now.