The day dawned, dewy, but the mist was clearing;
the sun rose fiercely, soon was scorching, searing.
The trail was blazing and our heads were burning.
From Wetton Mill, we walked; we were returning.
We stopped to shelter 'neath a leafy bower.
We said, "five minutes," but we sat an hour
to hear the murmur of a stream, fast flowing
and listen to a field of flowers growing.
And in that stillness, from the sunshine, shaded,
we killed the time, while precious peace pervaded
our souls. For weeks, we'd been wound up and wired;
of mindless chatter, we were sick and tired!
Refreshed, once more, along the trail we travelled.
The sky grew darker as the day unravelled.
Then dusk descended and the light was fading,
till moon, as stately sun, came masquerading!
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 29th, 2020 10:12
- Comment from author about the poem: memories of summer
- Category: Love
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments5
A fine write Kevin.
An actual valley? Does the No.7 bus go there?! heehee.
Happy Birthday soon too! It will show as March 12th on here though (12/3 - month, then day), not 3/12 (day, then month). lol.
Nice contemplations and a good read Kevin. Yes it's clear you spent an hour listening to a field of flowers growing as it nearly takes that long to get your ear in. It's a bit like night vision that takes a bit of time to tune in.
Thanks man!
J
Manifest your pleasures that day in the Manifold Valley.
Felt and enjoyed very much.
All the best, Dave
good read, like the imagery and relatability
Let me walk that path, and rest a while in your words
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