Saturday, 5 May 2018

More Qit’a

The past with all its tortuous turns
lies rooted at this edge, where time
hems future’s folds
unseen beyond today’s precipice.
*******
Her carer thinks it is just a stone
gathering dust up on the shelf


Not cherished key to moisten memories
of windswept love on Beadnell Bay
.
*******
Red rust dust clings like the Sahara in luggage;
as childhood dreams of Martian Adventures;
to the unused tools in his silent shed.

© Sheila Ash

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