Healing weather will
soften,
wear the edges of the
chiselled letters
that scar the memorial
stone
A shepherd’s shadow
breasting the summit of
Little Mell Fell
falls tall before it, into
evening.
For eighty two brutal,
beautiful
years he’d been bound to his
land
his sheep. He hadn’t looked back.
© Sophia Roberts
All
rights reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment