Monday morning stung my eyes.
The cold ached my ears
and I looked up towards the hills.
Sunday afternoon.
Gravel slipped and rolled underfoot,
and families with dogs were caught
laughing and shouting
on the stinging wind.
At the top, I looked down,
fast breaths, cold air
caught in my throat.
The town below was bathed
in pale winter light,
and the shadow of the hills
stretched over the county beneath.
A kite broke free from a shouting child
and floated away,
lost in the slowly descending mist.
For a moment, I had risen back up there,
but I was just
stood in the street,
smiling.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment