Sunday, 11 April 2010
A WALK ON THE HEATH
Between old trees
slipped sunlight,
gently kissing wet leaves
warm golden light,
which swiftly disappeared
behind grey clouds
the sky quietly crying
an impossible tree trunk
lay dead amidst
the orange blades
still it was -
like two sleeping
bodies might be...
...perhaps not so calm
rustling leaves betrayed
their silence
while birds chirped
until all the noise ended
and she wondered
about his company,
how perfect it might be
to kiss him
under strange branches
in slips of obsessive light
she was never more distracted
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