Quakers Yard

by Richard Vince

My memory is not of a place
But of a photograph;
Of coal, steel, and smoke that
Departed before I arrived.

As with people, scars cannot
Hide the beauty of a landscape:
They and their healing
Tell a story that gives depth
To the superficial surface.

Grass grows greener,
Rivers run clearer as they
Emerge from all we made
To hide them. But now
They hide in plain sight as
Our eyes look determinedly

It is a gift to live in
A country of so many secrets:
As long as I live I will
Never want for adventures.


Posted on 01/24/2021
Copyright © 2021 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Joan Serratelli on 01/24/21 at 08:12 PM

Really good piece. Loved the ending- kind of haunting. I read it 3 times. Thanks!

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