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Poem

The Journey

……….. had been arduous, 
the path had been cramped,
the afternoon was shortening
and my destination crept closer….
I walked on.

The path still strolled ahead of me
and no matter how fast I travelled -
that fact never seemed to alter.
I pushed on, clumps of clouds bundling above;
now an acting audience to my every step. 
Perhaps comparing my journey,
and what was to come, with past travellers?

That path decided to smooth around a corner
where hills suddenly reared to mountains
that soared, towered and appeared to glare down
like gigantic, herculean sentinels.
And there, sitting at the base of these verdant giants, 
sat the house, alone and seemingly lonely!

The path was bored and wandered off,
so I offered a thank you nod for services rendered,
and ambled towards my destination, the house.
It now winked at me with luminous whiteness
and a spark of vivid red - offered a door.
I drew closer, distracted as I noted smoke
slithering out of a little finger of chimney. 
I watched entertained as it twisted, spiralled
and slowly thinned away as if searching
a new chimney to inhabit for the evening.

My thoughts now turned to sense the house, 
sense its emotion, sense its mood
when suddenly that stroke of red…. scraped slowly open
and a worn shoe with woollen hand edged into view!
They both stopped as if hesitating, knowing their place, 
allowing the mountains to move closer, to gloom down...
as a distant memory shivered and rushed my spine….
I stood waiting!

Ian Souter

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