Wednesday, 12 October 2016

Tunes of the Road

The flutter of paper wings

 tells me to walk more. I’m 
in a place of sleeping, mossy 
stones and barren olive trees.

Cold water flows down into 

the village of snow dusted 
roofs and eating sheep. I don’t 
know where my feet has taken

me but there’s a shimmery light 

nesting under the giant, thawing 
trees, guiding me. Time doesn’t 
exist here, there’s only the whisper

of the road.

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