And did she look across the distance with dismay
When banished to the heatless edge of space?
And would the jealous earth not let her turn away
Or hide that cry still frozen on her face?

Behold her now, cheeks cracked, mouth wide with pain
Trying to bury herself in the dark again.

Peter Jukes 1982

The words are from one of my very first poems, written when I was 16

Desire is the asp
Is the twisting
In my breast
She changes, Time and
Space, or else
Not here to change

Love was always reaching:

Chubby hands that grasped
An apron as it passes.
And when the fingers were strong
Brown lined, agile
Around your pillow templed head
Your eyes eluded me.

The appeal of appealing

Eyes, that vacuous
Kiss of fire, desire
Is not there or
Then, but in
Remembering.

Peter Jukes 1977

One of the earliest poems I can remember writing, from my teens. 

"Love can never die",

You said before you entered
And left me, empty
Averting your eyes

But I keep all your letters.

Sometimes their manner recalls your voice
Promising, apologising,
Struggling to explain the gap between
What you could conceive and
Recreate.

This paper yellows and curls
Yet while the flickering hand feeds the fire
In time,
These words are only cinders

But I have made a place for them

Peter Jukes 1978