The city woke
Duty-bound and sullen,
Huddled Monday morning
And grey resentment
Stealing rose-gold wonder
From the pocket of necessity.

My road lay westward;
Gilded opalescence
Glimpsed in a mirror,
Easily missed
When the clock is ticking
And ‘elsewhere’ calls.

I raced the sunrise to the hills
And carried you with me,
Wishing to share
The mist and mystery
Of a perfect dawn
And the scent of heather.

Like this:
Like Loading...
Published by Sue Vincent
Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs.
Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com.
View all posts by Sue Vincent
‘I raced the sunrise to the hills’. Wonderful
LikeLiked by 1 person
I imagine your soul walks here, Sue. We miss you. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person