The Old Jam Jar

Wandering the virtual green fields of home, I open the farmyard gate fall into a haze of retrospect. I see a “LMS Black Five” Locomotive bellowing upon a utilized line, ghostly sparks tantalizing the embankment. Below a paddock ploughed, sown with scattered seed to germinate this memory of that time past. I stroll the hoary lane beneath a pale cold eve, discover soft mist stirring upon the low moor, in warps of time, giving in to modernization. Mile high bracken upon the Beacon under a clementine moonlight, in shadows drifting to and fro like the tide upon the silken sea. At the old cottage in Sugar Hill, I see a cut glass vase, sitting supreme upon the polished surface with rose, carnation and dahlias, near by a collection of love in all those wonderful bluebells from Nesfield. “In the old Jam Jar” Entered 2022 Poetry Marathon mile 14 contest Sponsor Mark Toney 13/9/2022