Across moorland,

Between velvet mountains

On sheep dotted hillside;


Sun bathing heather,

And purple flowers glow

In softening light of evening.


Seated on grass,

Surveying silent valley

As clouds gambol towards sunset.


Memories form and reform in sky,

Pierced by warming rays

As they take shape in my mind,

Shuffling through long passed years.


Where did it go,

Promised existence of hopeful youth?


As images scud by

I watch,

I wonder;

There should be more…..

◄ OK, Christmas

Love Is Cruel ►


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Harry O'Neill

Sat 3rd Dec 2016 00:13


I very much like those lines;

`As clouds gambol towards sunset`

`Shuffling through long passed years`

In a poem which uses a very apt metaphor to say what it says.

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