My Masters Wreath

As I stalk breathless
Through the swamp
This is the lesson on not being scared
The fading light
The final bloom
Of things so small
Be not afeard

On the bridge of uncertainty
Of empty shoes
And blasphemy
I stare down unto the tide
And wonder where you will reside

Where once was six there now is five
‘We’ll take it on the chin’
And finally we feel alive
As heavy rains set in

Read to me Father of Sleep
The lines on your brow so very deep
I remember you in lucid grief
As my masters wreath drifts out to sea

by Ashley Hawkes

Comments (1)

I like your style of poetry, Ashley... it has an archaic ring to it. dan