The Daily Post prompt is: water.

Photo ©Grand Parc-Bordeaux, France



Roll, waves of curdled cloud

over the troubled ocean of night,

wash the waving treetops with darkness

and the damp grass with shadows.

I will not wait for the rising moon

to light my way down the tangled path,

but follow the scent of the last spring roses

to the place where you will be waiting.

No pale and timid sunset, fading soft,

could make a fitting frame for you,

only the wild and untamed sky,

lightning-streaked and thundering will do.



I got there first to see you arrive
Not wanting to show you my thoughts’ disarray.
After all of this time you replied to my mails
First sign of regret since you went away.
I sat at the back and watched as you searched
Your familiar poise, the set of your head
And my heart gave a leap despite common sense
Kindling hopes that for years had been dead.
I clutched at the crumbling wall of defence
Round a heart that was stuck back together with glue
Composed my features, collected myself
And tried to distance this stranger from you.
I set down my coffee with trembling hands
Catching at morsels of exploding pride.
You glanced round the café, you caught my eye
My hopes turned to ash and I wanted to hide.
Your face, the familiar self-satisfied smile
Brought back all the reasons why we were estranged
And the desolate howling voice in my head
Told me you were the same and nothing had changed.