Blue Hole
Into a well with crumbling walls I fell,
my melancholic dreams encircled in an hour
and darkly lost, as in eternity,
within a hole of ever-deepening blue.
No more awaiting Spring with eager hope,
no friendly word of cheer, no safety rope.
Numbed sense, ambition petrified as stone,
except for one stark over-riding need,
a constant calling not to be ignored.
No real attempt to clamber from the pit,
nor willingness to hear the beckoning voice
of sanity, resounding, echoing,
unheeded. My sweet love, my dearest friend,
I seek a misty solace in your arms.
The past is gone, the present indistinct,
but this I know, your honeyed precious charms
the perils of the day will see me through.
All that I am, my dear, I owe to you,
my amber-beaded love, my Special Brew.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2021
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