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Mist On the Barrows
***Dedicated to a wise old man
I once knew***
-----" There is no such thing
as death..."
------ an old friend
'O desolate wasteland,
filled not with flowery rushes,
threshing green fields silted,
earthy and ether months;
there can be no solstice,
no progress ----
where the tides are naught
The barrows long for life,
the painter's easel and stroke;
yet not even rainbow shadow
could colors so evoke,
life into thy nostrils -----
English barrow grave;
the dead are not there.....
Saxon King no more.....
Though they are not gone,
for very long;
our hearts be all we have,
among memories,
tides, and song
So do they hearken
Copyright ©
Keith O.J. Hunt
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