Mutability

It was all different; that, at least, seemed sure.

We still agreed — but only that she'd changed.

Some things that you still loved might still endure.

You woke in your own, big, dove-tailed bed, secure

And warm — but the whole room felt rearranged.

It was all different; that, at least, seemed sure.

The lamp stood four-square — like your furniture;

The air'd gone tinged, though, or the light deranged.

Some things that you still loved might still endure

Outside. Your fields stretched, a parched upland moor

Where shadows paired and split, where lean shapes ranged.

It was all different; that, at least, seemed sure

And that, from here on in, you could count on fewer

Second chances. Some rules might be arranged;

Some things that you still loved might still endure,

Though some old friends would close, soon, for the pure

Joy of the kill — no prisoners exchanged.

It was all different; that, at least, seemed sure.

Maybe the injuries weren't past all cure.

No luck lasts; yours might not, too long, stay estranged;

Some things that you still loved might still endure.

It was all different; that, at least, seemed sure.