He trudged,
Silently.
Leaden feet,
Almost as heavy as his heart.
He knew,
From the start
That carving her initials
May break both their hearts.
The forest is silent,
Except for a whispering breeze.
He has no direction,
He has lost his way.
Not just today,
But for many days.
The trees all look the same,
In this quest that has no name.
As night draws in
He feels helpless,
Useless,
Then falls to watch the moon.
Hoping soon
That dawn will break
And light his way
To peace, for both of them.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
YOU ARE READING
Freefall
PoetryFreefall. The title, hopefully, describes what you will find in this collection, I shall write pieces free of the constraints of both form, and structure.
