Written by: Charles Clive

Alone I watch the seven seas, awash with tears of brine. The restless sands are refugees, the Moon has lost its shine. I hear the wind sigh through the trees, an empty, lonesome whine. I long to feel a gentle breeze, of breath so soft, benign. I feel a deep, profound unease; a future in decline. I search for hope, perhaps reprise. I seek the merest sign. This awful truth is hard to seize, our lives can not entwine. No more to touch, nor squeeze, nor stroke, nor hold your hand in mine. ~
Fir Lisa's 'The Moon and Back' Competition. 22nd April 2013.