THE COBBLED STREET

The cobbled street

 

No more will I hear your tapping heel

ring across the rain glaze cobbled street

and not alone do I this loss of sound feel

without which I know we cannot meet.

The wind is begged by the waiting trees

to bend their branches gently down

so the leaves may catch on the breeze

your arrival from the town.

 

No more will I see your shadow first

stretching before you, eager for me,

and so I must be a lover cursed

clenching tight a spare door key.

The Owl you watched on his place

until past midnight when he flew,

has also left, his bough an empty space.

He was also watching you.

 

The rain glaze cobbled street is now hushed

but still watched by a heart now crushed.

11 thoughts on “THE COBBLED STREET

  1. When I read your words, I’m so immersed everything else falls away. Then I get to the last word and I have to remember to breathe again and then I have to start over for another read. This has all those deep layers, mystery, and imagery that you so masterfully weave. There’s a feeling of waiting and ache of longing. Another excellent write.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you Lynn, this came off the back of the owl piece, when I saw it I thought how great it would be to share this with someone. There were stone cobbled street everywhere in the north of England and being raised and sort of cushion like they always glistened in an attractive way that asphalt never can. Of course high heels would clatter signalling her arrival. I couldn’t resist the Owl leaving him as well, symbolising wisdom and implying he can’t think straight anymore. She hasn’t just left she’s taken a part of him with her.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. “No more will I see your shadow first stretching before you, eager for me” …. wow! I felt an ache in the pit of my stomach while reading this. You are now having physical manifestations on your readers: be gentle kind Sir!

    Liked by 1 person

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