For the lark she sings in her morning song,
That brightens up my day.
The pitter patter of tiny drops,
Clouds fill the sky with grey.
The dampened ground, that familiar smell,
Now quenched refreshed anew.
Brings forth forgotten memories,
Of a time that I once new.
Like grains of sand they ebb and flow,
Those minutes of the day.
In lines of endless moments,
That brought forth that child at play.
For is this just like déjà vu
For some time I’ve been alone.
Now standing here now humble,
To all these things I’ve known.
With gentle face a youthful pose,
As we danced the night away,
A tender touch a knowing gaze,
No need for words to say.
For what is love but a feeling?
As hearts melt into one.
With the blessings of good fortune,
Now Care free and full of fun.
For they say that hopes eternal,
And all things come to he who waits.
Or is that for other people,
For nothing seems that straight.
Given in reflected thought,
To those oh so special years.
Brought back in just a heart beat,
I wipe away the tears.
© N windle
As the never world awaits me,
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake
Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.
And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.
Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.
Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray
© N A Windle 2009
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
The pendulum motions to and fro,
From the clock upon the wall.
As the second ebb like grains of sand,
For one by one they fall.
Through the window of the dim lit room,
For outside, lies a world of grey,
For thoughts now turn to yester year,
That seems so far away.
With freckle on skin and golden hair,
Topped with lace like bonnet fair.
Upon a face a smile of glee,
As little feet splash in the sea.
A bucket clenched in fingers tight,
With spade to match its colors bright.
In awe and wonder of many things,
Through eyes so young that new life brings.
N Windle. MMXI.
Warm evenings have that lazy feel,
As the sun sets upon the day.
An orange ball suspended,
As all cares now swept away.
The exotic smells in the perfumed air,
That lies heavy all around.
Mimosa now that in full bloom,
As its branches drape the ground.
Do you ever look at the sky?
As the stars come out at night.
When you’re held by that someone specials arms,
And don’t want to say goodnight.
Though no spoken word is uttered,
As eyes gaze into eyes
It’s said there windows to the soul,
Mere feelings can’t disguise.
Love can just be fleeting,
With precious thoughts we steal.
And in that brief encounter,
We know that it’s for real.
For the hills they undulate and roll,
Set beneath a crimson sky.
Image liken, to castle ramparts past,
Now slowly worn away with time.
For only seconds before the dawn,
And the mighty sun to rise.
Once more its rays to warm the earth,
And ascend into the sky.
For little bird how sweet you sing,
As you usher now the new morn in.
From branch to branch flit to and fro,
Along the leafy wild hedgerow.
For amongst the green, a dusting fare,
Of pastel shades of color there.
For gentle are the flowers that spring,
Who’s petals blossom like fairy wings.
© N Windle.
Place your hand upon my coat,
Watch me shiver so,
Pure ecstasy with you I feel,
Through my eyes I touch your soul.
For ill be there at your waking,
My tail, wagging to and fro.
In the evening bring you comfort,
When the days, stress has took its toll.
Can there be a friend so loyal,
Who will be there when you call?
In this ever changing world,
Some things never change at all.
A silhouetted lengthen form,
Came from out the morning sun.
As my eyes adjust to its savage glare,
I knew you are the one.
Though mortal in my quest am I
Fair maid I love thee so.
Smitten as the moth to the flame,
A pure vision to behold.
In trepidation of things to come,
Free from my lonely cell.
Heart beats like fluttering butterflies,
As from her lips, she chants her spell.
For I am but a simple fool,
And what can she see in me?
For that, what can I offer?
Except selfless love and loyalty.
For it is said love conquers all,
And for me I’m but a boy.
For what do I know of true love?
But in these words I try.
Nicholas Windle 2009.
Chase not what was autumn time,
Its vibrant colors that had once adorned.
Now fades away as the winter mourns.
But to savour thoughts like a fine old wine.
Across valley deep over moors and hill,
The Norse wind on his steed doth roar.
Through nook and cranny and frame of door,
With breath of ice like steel.
Ice maid for you enchant us so,
As you lay your cloak of winter down.
Across sleepy hamlets and the bustling towns,
Vestige remnants of the year now go.
© N Windle 2009
The river, with her sweeping bends,
Gives us pleasure like old friends
With all the character of a human face,
Etched with contours, using a touch we trace.
And as the seasons come and go,
This weathered look we come to know.
There’s no natural way to slow down time,
But to live in hope of the divine.
Occasionally coursing and sometimes slow,
As all-day pressures take their toll.
And as it ebbs down to the sea,
We return to nature to be set free.