Silence settled over him.
From the far end of memory
Before daylight is everywhere
He settled in to write.
The sleeping earth overflowed
With poetic thoughts.
Having many a vacant hour to pass
All alive in his heavenly domain
The bay-window slung open
Allowed sounds permeate this writing space
Words, wormed their way
Leaving a trail on vellum pages.
Being the conductor
Waving his baton
He composed at will
Thoughts, going back to childhood
Carefree days
Days spent in meadows gold.
Hours passed, leisurely picking mushrooms.
Innocent games were played
Orchards were “robbed”
Flowers appeared to be forever in bloom
Trees forever green
From the far end of memory
Stories never ending.
© Chris Black
22nd March 2020
Poetry from The Man Shed
~The Poet’s Poet~
Chris's Blog 
These are are simply exquisite words Chris that tickle my little toe.
“Flowers appeared to be forever in bloom
Trees forever green
From the far end of memory
Stories never ending.”
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You are most generous Ivor Thank you.
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