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Cosseted between deep banks of green.
On a warm Spring day, our steps alike,
Prospect their way, over stones and gravel
While our senses wallow.
Snow flakes in hand.
Cold chill against the skin.
Smiles, wrought in icy joy.
Upon my face a sweet sensation, glowing.
Oh, smoking giant!
Gigantian curls drift on the ether.
Sighing, singing, flying sounds
that
calm down then speed up the nervous frame of him
Grip harder, shadow.
I’m not spent yet.
I feel your fiery claw,
Warming me.
Tatters of existence.
Fading memories of self.
Gone the kernel of a day,
When the tide was in
And then, I and you and them.
Hello,
I seem to recognise your face,
Through the snow.
What is this place?
Home, you call it?
And the water is white,
I can’t cross over.
And sail the sea.
Old stone,
Comforting in your serenity,
I feel strength from your presence.
Though the edges wear
And as the years have passed,
Hills of slate, clothed in green,
Calming waters, reflected in.
Timeless valleys, long dead hills,
That saw a child, of rock lie,
Does anyone know me here?
Through the padlocked gate I glimpse the coverlet, green with blue and purple, and pinks rising from an…