In Vacant Time
Beyond a small stream’s margin lay we two
beneath a giant oak which spread sweet shade.
We barely knew what next we ought to do
there, pleasure-sated from the love we’d made
within deep foilage – on carpet lush.
The grass, which from the bank seemed to unroll
with wealth of buttercups and trim of brush
continued past us, up a gentle knoll.
Wrapped in one another’s arms, we pondered
how the rill, once sprightly, seemed subdued,
and how it once had rippled as it wandered
toward this sheltered spot of solitude.
Our brook, which kissed each boulder on its way,
in vacant time – with us – now sparkling lay.
Sept 10, 2020 the 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (7)any form any theme' Poetry Contest of Brian Strand
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