Tintagel

The rock soaks into me,
And the winds,
And the thundering waves
Trying to climb up towards me.
And the little yellow flowers,
Not clinging to the cliff
But thriving in adversity.

They soak and sink and change my flesh and bones,
Make my blood sing of a beginning almost remembered.
They starve my past and future, and feed the moment.
They silence, soothe and calm everything that isn’t Now.

Sept 2016 ©jsmorgane

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Published in: on September 14, 2016 at 7:57 pm  Comments (2)  
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