THE POND

Companion piece to ‘Not Often’

 

 

The Pond

And

must I always this image see,

in the polished steel gloss of the pond,

at close of day, when the tired sun wanes

and can lay down little warmth or light,

cowing eyes to leave memory for sight.

 

The

playback of honey voices and lips

that could no longer ignite or excite two

who had exchanged love for habit,

there with the bulrush and water mint,

passion’s firey red now a pale pink tint.

 

A pebble thrown and you ripple away

into the reeds and fallen bank to lay.

10 thoughts on “THE POND

  1. Great choice of words and music Nigel. There is a magic around ponds. This brought back memories of catching tadpoles, although I know it wasn’t the focus for the poem, and I have never heard of water mint so thanks for adding that to the memory bank.

    Liked by 1 person

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