Words for Autumn 2015

The Lover's Tryst

The rain came in like white noise
On the wild yellow knotted flower.

The grey sky was stretched to breaking
over my little ragged bower.

The wind like electric current courses
Ristle-crackle through the birch leaves.

Silver trunks, they whisper, creaking -
Echoes of the ships at sea.

And I am behind the stone dyke, hiding
In amongst the scentless, blood-veined buds, and waiting.

A blackbird pierces through the din,
Yellow beaked with bright-ringed eye.

My heart, jump start, ignition sparked
Listens to the far flung cry.

And I am behind the stone dyke, hiding
In amongst the scentless, blood-veined buds, and waiting.

My mouth is baited, fish hook shining
In the hopes to catch a kiss.

Wet and scented are those shadows,
The strike of flint - a lovers' tryst.

And I am behind the stone dyke, hiding
In amongst the scentless, blood-veined buds, and waiting.

The moon is slowly rising,
Glowing, watchful overhead -

Reflecting someone elses morning
On every silent word that's said

And I am behind the stone dyke, hiding
In amongst the scentless, blood stained buds and waiting.