Desires, memories, fears, so many tears,

I only know that here is the murmur of the waves,

And the spindly branches tremble on the trees

The morning light is thin, flimsy,

The vagaries of auguries are spread out

Like a blanket over the antique branches

Of oak trees and the birds sing

to the rising in the East, of the sun, which is magical;

This is a birth day, a death day, a day of significance

Dawn peeps over the horizon

And her sadness is reflected in the sea, below me,

And in the calm  of the sky, above me.

The countryside shimmers under a light sprinkling of frost,

Early spring, late winter, gleams

Stare into this northern sky

The sun is not your messenger today but I read you nonetheless

Desires, memories, fears, form labyrinths

Which I will not walk again. 

Image result for winter labyrinth painting


◄ Being here

Early Spring in England ►


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Sun 9th Feb 2020 00:02

Lovely. 🌟

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