by | Apr 29, 2010 | Poetry | 0 comments

She listens for his footsteps on sharp gravel
leading up the path to their country cottage,
But then no gain! He had gone to war,
and would never return yet once more,
Pipes of Pan played their wistful tunes,
and sharp bitter breezes blew again,
bending childhood memories like grass,
and churning life’s dust into clogging mud.
No one saw him as Fate read his final deed,
But she knew the date and time he died.
Sand slowly trickled into a sharp sandy indent,
as a leaf fell from a stout English Oak,
And Summer sun cried in vile bitter pain.
Slippers old and frayed were in their place
beside his once favourite fireside chair,
Wistful whines came from Midge his dog,
and sands of bitter time edged slowly by.
Alone and sad is a curdling pain in the heart,
When life has lost all meanings and purpose.
Crying bitterly, she took her med’s one by one,
until darkness and peace descended upon her.
Reunited, they then climbed God’s steepest hill,

Hand in Hand.



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