Thursday, 27 October 2011


I wake up extra early,
While you are still asleep;
I dress, and put socks and shoes on my feet.
I creep downstairs, head out into the black,
I am all prepared,
I am never coming back.
I walk fast, hidden
By the thick nights goodbye kiss;
These dales and fells that I crest,
Are all that I will miss.
Atop the royal purple heather,
Atop this fervent forgotten heath,
I look to the clusters of sheep,
Grazing far beneath.
I walk down through a dale,
Across a boggy fen,
Like a ship at half-sail,
I go wherever and when.
The day was grey and bleak,
Yet the wind and the world;
And the moors, were tiring and meek;
As the sun took his last gasp,
Dipping beneath the waves,
I made it to the forest, of the forgotten graves.
It was dark, my feet were aching,
And my chest was yawning;
As I lay down on the soft pine needle floor,
To wait for morning.

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