Far Distant Hills

I have been known to sit in a window or near a window and gaze, off into the distance, for a long time. I did this from an early age, it was only later that I realised it was a kind of meditation, a kind of dreaming..

Oh……He is off with the fairies again…

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On those

Far distant hills

Are hung

The post it note memories

Of another me

 

I dressed them

With my dreams

And in my being

I heard their wise

And comforting words

 

In the wet

Water bottle mood

Of a rain drop window

I feel their deep

Earthen sigh

 

As the steady caress

Of life tickles them

And muffles

Tracing and chasing

My way

Through the curtain lace

 

In the brilliant

And audacious

Haze

The pastel pink

Light of beginning

Starts the day

 

As they chatter

Of a country far away

And show me

The velvet staircase

Winding deep

Into my heart

 

Those circles made

They dance

In the rings of gold

 

And it brings

Again

…..And again

  

Their now quiet

Counsel

Whispers in my ear

And calms me

 

They hold the firey

Beacon

Safe, in the autumn leaves

And bear the footsteps

 

And call the weary

Mariner

Home

Across the waves

 

With the siren song

In the fractious

Fruiting

Of the newborn’s

Angry tear

 

They hold the scent

Of all my loves

 

Falling as the casual

Curl on the collar

And the copper

Plaits in the arch of a shoe

 

In their warm

Caring arms

They hold the

Fragile echoes

Of the voices

In the wind

 

And they share

 

They share my secrets