A Delicate Bridge


With the silver in their hair some have found 
treasure and not through sheer luck.
For my signs long have I peered through windows 
but beyond me through walls they look.
With a breast that harbours surpassing dawns
uncowed by night, sweet for growing rare,
yet familiar as day to these spirits
beyond the thud from my raucous funfair.


Today a flock I've come to know vanished.
Normal- I'm guessing- with every real change 
of season. One day I'll find out where they go
or find myself a little more ready
to move forward when one fails to leave
or returns.

◄ Beauty In The Scales

Memento Mori ►


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Martin Elder

Mon 22nd Jul 2019 09:39

Beautifully put Adam

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