Howard Firkin
I’m fading: faster than my hair grows grey;
I’m washing left too long out on the line;
I’m last night’s salad—look, it still tastes fine;
verandah furniture. I fade away.
It’s time that’s lending distance to your view.
I’m watching as you rise and grow in light,
as daylight fades and you and other stars
parade around the cafes, clubs, and bars,
and glister photo chemically past night,
becoming brilliant as you always do.

Goodbye’s a lengthy process while you wait
for bonds of chemistry to dissipate.
If love is just another change of state,
no wonder grateful one day starts to grate.