Sunday 12 July 2015

Communication 21



the witching hour

warm winds whistle through Syrian thistles
the acres resonate the unrest
everything here's as it suggests

shadows fixed in the foreground 
twilight shows us the path back home
you're beside me I'm never alone

safety -  she’s moving clearly out of reach
I felt her hair brush past my cheek,
gone before I turned to speak

cuckoo spit clutches damp fennel
all that’s nocturnal still sleeps
left all alone - the willow still weeps

dearest friend come out and talk with me 
this love we have the night can't devour
lets go get lost in the witching hour

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