Thirteen bells ring out
peels through the foggy October skies
where the truths and promises swirl
times of wonder
dread of dread.
I walk on rocky shores
uncurled serpents snapping at my feet
while tears salty from spray and melancholy
feel grainy on my skin
locked in a small cave of stone
to go back
or onward roam?
hampered by paupers tales
crumpled tight in pale blue papers
and pushed deep into musty pockets
with old thread and faded ribbons.
I pick up flat stones
smoothed with the tides of the moon
skim them into the mist
as a prayer
with barely a splash.
Don't ask me what this is about..i have no idea...its been a tough week so perhaps i'd just like to go and hide!!
Go and see the other at The Mag they are amazing..xx