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.