by David K Asamoah
The weather wasn’t favourable that day.
The grey sky wore the bitterest of scowls
And from above the crowd of ashen clouds
Drifted so aimlessly like they were free–
Free from the wind’s sure will
And down below, upon the solid ground,
The bustle did not calm, even more loud
Were busy roads transporting hurried traffic
And markets breathed swift business at the pulse
Of the clicks by the till.
Far, far away from all this rush did dwell
A timeless fortress from the everyday,
With walls of oak and aspen flushed with green.
A kingdom hidd’n, retraced with careful feet,
Was found at peace and still.
It was near silent, minus the slight breeze
And the light rustling of the shivering leaves,
The quietude of murmured conversation
From tree to tree, held gentle tones that carried
Despite the springtime chill.
The tune of the tranquil rang out therein
Yes, all at hand could listen then dissolve
Into those lulling murmurs and absolve
Themselves from this day’s groan. To then have felt
As sweet as thyme and dill.
Alas the sun must rest and memories fade
And where a peace had set, thin sighs pervade
And all that glowed in mind, in present dimmed.
With nothing left save thought and my own skin
Am I to face the shrill?