The Anonymous Affair
We were but passing boughs, our lives reaching out –
And a mere moment entangling us.
So we could not free ourselves
From its sudden clutches,
From the cobweb of it.
These were the thorny branches
That transformed into your arms.
An autumn: our affair, our falling, our finishing.
How bright once the hues of the leaves when they fell,
But how what was so burnished in its beauty,
Dried before we even could wipe our eyes.
I crowned you within – but already before us
Was engraved the years of your brief reign –
For our hearts had decreed
That we should again be strangers.
Elizabeth Jane Timms is a historian, freelance writer, historical consultant and poet, based in Oxford. Her poetry has appeared in The Oxonian Review, Coldnoon, North of Oxford and elsewhere. She is a Member of the University of Oxford Poetry Society.