Tuesday, 2 June 2015

I lived and smelled the ......



























Crack…..
Branch breaks on the tree
As the cold wind howls
Takes me back
Where no bird song was heard
No need to dive down….
This time..
Feet wet but warm
No brown peat water
Dissolving my toes
Unlike….
My young feet back then
When youthfulness protected
To the summit I walk
Leisurely stroll
Through Wordsworths beauty
At the top I sit……
Reflect of a time long gone
As clear as yesterday’s quick kiss
No bullets to load….
Grenades to ready….
Just a flask of hot coffee
Wake up and smell it….
A hint of whisky
For the Glorious dead.

© Tony McNally