Pale is my face

by | May 22, 2010 | Poetry | 0 comments

Standing tall, I gaze down upon my loving town folk
They go gentle about their labours on sun bleach streets
As the summer sun warms my broad shoulders and torso
The soft gentle southern winds cool my fettered brow.

Clouds hurry by in Mediterranean blue sky
The wind now getting slightly harsher on its journey
And yet I perceive in the distance the sun setting
Over the horizon, bedecked with sparkling colours.

The rose speckled sea laps at the very edge of life
And although I am now content with my position
As white stains mar bronze mildew features, I ask myself,
WHY am I always a statue, and never a bird?


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