Sunday, June 07, 2009


your thoughts – clemmed, treacle slow,
laden with seams of pit shaft
dark – tread an endless groove,
blinkered as a pit prop
pony moithered by light

your mind – dimmed, dunnock shy,
cradled with songs of wind swept
moors – dreams a fearless path
clinkered as a wind squall
diamond mantled with night

your self – numbed, fossil still,
layered with seals of sun starved
gold – furls a nubless cloth
crinkled as a sun coaxed
rock rose ambered in time.

by Helen Overell
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