These
These mountains, the rivers, these hills, these valleys.
Appear to the eye in awe in the daylight. Disappear like the wind in the blackness of night.
These people, these friends, these colleagues, these families.
Their smiles of admiration, fellowship and love for what they want in the warm, summer sunshine.
Disappear like the wind through the trees when expectation is lost or broken but a heightening desire to be both deaf and blind to reason if a weakness for exploitation is shown.
Copyright © A Yorkshire Poet | Year Posted 2025
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