Working on second book of poetry….

on
Tarbat Ness
An old croft

I have not heard your voice
Now, quiet and silent
Time orchestrates the skies, moving
The clouds changing
The breath of wind occupied
I have not heard the music, lost
Broken spindles of old tunes
Missed terribly
I have not smelled your life, the turn of earth
That marked my home
A subtle softness, depth
That cleared the conflict of my soul
I have not felt alive, passion
A hollow perception, my self
Stopped with no means of movement
North, south, east or west
Stopped at the edge, on the stone

©2009

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