The Secret Keeper’s word prompt this week was to incorporate these five words into a poem.
WALK | OLD | PROMISE | VIEW | BEAT
I wrote the poem then looked for an illustration. This one is perfect. I don’t in the least mind borrowing the persona of a bent and bowed Ukrainian lady.
Walking the old paths that climb full of promise,
Treading the road for a view of tomorrow,
But the bend keeps on turning, never arriving,
And the bend behind curves the past out of sight.
Today’s at my feet with buttercups swaying,
Pouring enough gold to fill empty hands,
Heart’s pulse beats time to the song of the blackbird,
Golden and silver threads weave tales of light.
Hands filled with gold, face turned to the morning,
Though clouds bar the sky, mist covers the sun,
Hope is in wing beats of gulls on the skyline,
Carrying dreams from the depths of the night.