I’ve met the alabaster heron upon ’tis grassland,
“bare-footed,” he said, “’tis journey I must go,”
unmanned, unplanned and a broken hand,
he says, “‘beyond the water – ’tis land – I must know!”
upon uneven grounds, he smiled
while I – beset with gloom.
eyes set on the dark of night, O yes he was beguiled,
while I – my heart: but a tomb.
“I should like to taste wine,” he says
“for the time for heartbreak is nigh!”
– shock –
(the heron spoke to me in sighs;
he, too, thought of her cries)
’twas the last dawn I recall:
————I returned home
and you opened the door.
red eyes and silent sighs,
pain says it all.
alas, the roses, they grew,
from the opening of Pandora’s box;
(I should think hope has been let out.)
magenta, and alive, and towards the sun
they sing, they dance; and the bottle of wine
they did open.
I felt a tear
you did too, this I know.
– metamorph —–
beside you: bags.
“through.” I think the rose petals have faded
into the ground: the thorns carved a path
on which you set foot on.
– metamorphosis –
the dust on your yellow trainers;
the sheen of light that paints your hair a brown hue;
the warmth emanating from your body;
the blue of your bag —– that bag. hope must’ve escaped; here she greets us
we both know. we waited for an infinity. today:
on ’tis grassland we sit
with the alabaster heron
and our glasses of wine.
he asked, yes the heron, O the alabaster heron asked,
“sir, what of the tomb?” “unlocked” –
originally published: 19 Sept 2015