THE RECEDE OF HIGH TIDE
on the estuary, river hasn’t the
choice, the ocean seized its
all the emancipation,
the mirror of life
encircled by
the spiny
hedge,
whenever I traversed to touch
the beauty of glowing dream,
left over bruising said, the
stings in affection is the
part of reflection, it
wouldn’t easy to
hide the inner
shadow!
a prolong pain burrowed the
way under the sensitivity
after the breaking of
illusion, for all the
time it’s not to
be ensued
that
life would get accordingly the
heart, prophecies couldn’t
save the scatterings of
emotion, vapor
layer had
the
short realism, in the first ray
of dawn, the vision was
clear, some marks of
kisses on the
chest or
the
glassy goblet reminded the tale
of night, drowsiness slowly
diluted by the floating
sun on the winter
sky, body odor
gradually
liberated from the alien touch - - -
- View from Knockamany bends Malin Co Donegal Painting by Stephen Pitt
