broken tree >> on river bend
Upon my bough,
June breeze pins me to the scene.
Brow of my beloved
Astride an amethyst trunk,
Arched towards rainfall
Tears the bow of harboured ships.
Old fisherman shares a nod -
Awkward reverence of existence -
Objectifying space between us.
The comfort of strangers.
Riverbed reflects a painting:
Into which we step,
People of oiled canvas, as
Burnt matches unframed.
Strike tomorrow chime.
Looking down into drowned
Weeds, savagely whirling,
On verge of uprooting.
Carcass of sunken yacht
Lies compassed on borders,
No map dares to bear
Locations of survival.
The Llangernyw Yew* knows my name, but
Shied away from sharing her moonlight.
Walking in footsteps of lonely walkers
En route to a vodka trail, pallid lips seeking.
Turned back to see nothing but mist:
Further into the fog I had fallen.
Old fisherman ignored my waves
Be thought of yesterday ripples,
Consumer of all the threads he has worn
His ruddy face wears a pugilist plinth.
Forget-me-nots border the path
Some beheaded some crushed,
Their stalks stand in stealth.
There is a force on the
Other side of the river:
Beyond oceans cities continents
It pulls me in magnetic majesty.
Cliché bruised me to sing Moon River-
It was the shortest walk home.
*Oldest surviving tree in Europe. Conwy, North Wales. Visited seeking solace 5 years ago.
Written by Strangeways_Rob
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