Saturday, October 23, 2010

Within Touching Distance

It’s another morning of cold dry sweat

Running the brow by the northern crest

Of the hill I never quite got to know.

There is a message somewhere,

Hidden amongst the bushes sprung –

Like toddlers learning to totter

Along the edge

Under watchful eyes,

Ever-present arms ready to protect

From the scorching poison brown.

I searched for it again today,

As I tossed and turned –

Blood coursing through my mind,

Cutting a broad swathe across the battlements

Recent sieges have run aground.

The happiness of yesteryears,

Wrapped neat with pretty ribbons blue

(The colour of the cloudless sky),

Search for a corner of my attic

To make its own,

Awaiting the dust that awaits us all

The other side of this channel,

Across the hill I never quite got to know –

A source of wonderment,

Or fear, or hope,

Or something else undefined:

Unclear, imprecise in its promised magnificence…



I scatter in the breeze.

Close. So close.

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