Monday, 6 August 2012

Softly

White foxglove




I walk tenderly, softly through this life.
Those other lives that might have been
hang heavy round my neck.
Meanwhile, rivers of water and stone
run down both sides of the road,
and the wipers wipe the screen clean,
and the radio plays its tunes,
and my  life passes softly, softly by.














No comments:

Post a Comment