Poetry (words)

Anvils


The path seems to trickle endlessly on, or at least it’s end is out of sight. I’ve never followed it completely. The rain is making the view it’s own today, but it still holds beauty in my memory. There are hollows here, burrows of time safe from the salt air. I’ve seen these cliff tops in spring, alive with nature, but resting now. I came here to dream, to think and the slate grey conditions are like a blank page. How different the ocean smells to the harbour, like all the seasons filling the senses at once. A place to shed sadness like a graveyard of thoughts. To lay to rest hostility and forget. 

Dreams hit the sodden ground like anvils too heavy to carry for the distance. The homeward journey will be a lighter one. The sense of loss has long passed and those feelings barely matter now in this reality. 

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s