Friday 23 February 2018

Echo

I've been wanting to have a crack at writing this for a while, but I started writing haikus about sport in my spare time instead, so here's this, just fitted it in

ECHO PASSING


He sang for me a thousand times, and I,
In turn, without a word, kept safe the boy,
All plump and green, already bold, but shy
not armed with ancient songs – yet - to deploy,
from north to east, across each land and sea.
He would be heard, sung back, acclaimed, adored,
His loves ransacked for clues. Yet first was me
And I have, largely, gladly, been ignored.

He spoke of me, his eyes a childlike blaze,
He sang for me a thousand times, I know.
We loved; from me he learnt to bend a phrase
So each would feel addressed, embraced – just so.
The curse; this gift it left the man defiled
But I, his mountain nymph, I’ll take that child.

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