Fay Slimm.

This Time

 

 

 

This Time.

 

Holed with stary vermillion November\'s
clear sky spreads eerie welcome 
to homing\'s slow footsteps.

Bound by hilly heathers this gentlest
of valleys strikes tired heartstrings
when mem\'ries start sinking. 

 

This time she notes recalled aromas
of moorland\'s\' mauve wildness 
and as twilight\'s finger striates horizon     
her roamer\'s eyes widen 
at missed noise of thunderous ocean           
pounding high cliffs of the cove.

 

Need\'s deep insistence pierces absence,
punctures stale failure 
as her feet turn again to seek familiar    
away from ambition and
when previous pleasures of ghost-like 
nostalgia rustle worn chains        
with notions for freedom she decides
that this time she must stay.