It must be the week that's in it...The holiday weather and all.
So here's another... sort of.....love poem...
A Cliff Walk
A continuous knife edge, you called it
And you wanted to hang on with celluloid and tape.
A walk heavily laden with portent.
A stoat diagonal across our track.
A pot of potatoes hitched to a tree
Begging questions for us to hold.
Inside an abandoned workman's hut
You, Sibyl-like, would tell me my fortune.
But instead of the tall dark stranger, you said,
"You've been with a man who smokes a lot."
I told you I wanted no trumpets.
No sliding sideways into that entrance there.
I asked you to teach me
the art of slowness.
And when the cliff edge opened out into a stony beach
you gave me tokens; grey stones with circles
Stones, purple and white marble.
Purple, the colour between us, you said.
But I could find for you
No token to hold.
Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2016
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