on the shoulder
Reminds me, how old
I have become
The northern connection
as if to smoulder
confides in me, I’m toldno more to run
Ancients, older than modern
whispers sweet trespasses
He waits
for the moments to reassemble
Moments, cold, almost frozen
waves in her hair
laughter in her eyes
sweet soul trespasses
The breeze is alive
in a northerly direction
On leaving one so stubborn
She decides to settle in the South
a poem from the collection Some Trickier Poems - Love with Conflicts - available as a kindle download or library item by clicking here