I wandered lonely, wondered about love,
While under clouds of northern English gloom.
I waited for the thunder from above
With no umbrella to spring into bloom.
I clambered, stumbling, up a ridge, vacuum
Weighting my lungs, and, gasping, looked below.
I saw hills hanging upside down - had doom
Wasted the land, and whistled time to go?
I fought for breath, my heart starting to slow,
Which showed my sight they were reflections of
High peaks, inverted in a pool. Assume
What relief - but there, a fair youth lay low,
I swear, starving. I held his hand. “It’s tough
When love’s this strong.” I carved his last words on his tomb.
Wed 14 Mar 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment