Throwing stones at the stars

A Manchester Worker Bee incorporated into the floor of the Town Halll in Manchester.


The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

"My Heart Leaps Up", William Wordsworth

Time does not diminish grief
As it is said to do, in popular belief,
It grinds on slow, tearing into dreams,
Destroying all that which merely
Appears or seems.

It is born again, transmuted
Into tinctures of love. 
It inhabits the mind, fills the heart
with all that is passing, strange.
The well-beloved lives on
In memory reminiscence,
Born again in glances, gleams.

Laughter shimmers 
Through the ages.
A child's terrors
Cured by her very presence
Her love for all that a child sees:
Floating like butterflies,
Buzzing like bees. 

◄ Twin compasses

Flecks of grey ►


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John Marks

Sat 10th Jun 2023 15:43

Thank you too Bethany.

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Bethany Sallis

Fri 9th Jun 2023 10:02

For me John your postings are ( always ) not only a great read but also an essentiality to write out loud-many thanks!

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