Spring Peach Blossom Poem by Mark Heathcote

We're-anything but broken-reeds my dear
age is a road narrowing out of sight
that's entering another stratosphere
but on the horizon shines just as bright
and love is a glowing spring peach blossom
whatsoever the season its fragrance
I drink, cherish as a poured libation
to these gods, I give great thanks loquacious
but singing like reeds disturbs even me
it is to you, your beauty, I now bow.
I'm rooted evermore a detainee
Standing tall and resolute with fervour
and if I sing, it's to you, you, alone
you, love, are my foundation, my roots, my home.