The promiscuous length of daylight
in the month of June,
spawned from a sunrise that
allocated a childish franchise.
The moorland breeze; that, to
rely upon when indulgence in dewy
pastures, leaves one reminiscencing
in how once the silvery moon shone.
Gildersber wrapped in winters
relentless white blanket, a pledge of
sledge irons to polish in youthful
exuberance, before life to
cherish in tracks of sheer delight,
when profound in greyness
the sky gave one a reason
This simple memory of one’s
sentimentality, somewhat indistinct
yet a zest of devotion in life
across the deep ocean.
Although elsewhere in this a
time warp of evanescent
I only have to dream
to be with you again!
© Harry J Horsman