Straightaway as you
Open wide the narrow blue
Window shutters
Of the old stone house
By the sea, wave
Upon wave of small white-
Capped memories begin
Spilling in, slowly
Washing the grit
That clings to the grey
Walls clean, while the wind
Murmurs welcome back
Pilgrim, again and again.
well, thank you. very generous of you, again and again.
ReplyDeleteI thank you, too, Richard for the first time. . . . .
DeleteThe turn from line to line is grand: revelation. The work that poetry should do.
ReplyDeleteAlways good to hear such comments from you, Duncan--no pun intended but feedback like this helps me "toe the line"! :)
DeleteLovely.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Tom.
ReplyDelete