Sunday, 13 July 2014

The Gifting Of Song To Others.


Empty spaces,
Holding only silence waiting.
Nothing to be said.
No words arrive.
Empty….


Amongst lavender stems
Ghost shadow of a Cabbage White –
Quenching my own thirst with watermelon.


Our Grandson
As if a stone in the garden,
Fast asleep
In his father's arms.


It is hard not to wonder,
Which path is his?
Here is part of my book of words for you.


Are we not all mysterious?
I only ask.
Mysteries within mysteries.
Landscapes within landscapes.


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