by Leonard M Hawkes

Cold October, in
Motionless mauve-brown hills;
Silent on a secluded path,
Restlessly waiting.

Was there never intention?
The betrayal of a fool?
Or was unforeseen the reality?
Did he come in his heart?

"Mountain gods,
Whispering woodland spirits,
Tell him that I came--
And I was not alone."


Author's Note: Glendalough

Posted on 10/29/2019
Copyright © 2023 Leonard M Hawkes

Return to the Previous Page

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2023 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)