Poetry of Place

I find my rock upon the hill

and gaze across the watery waste

the wind whipping hard across the grass,

dries salty tears upon my face.

A pallid sun, the brooding sky,

a place no sands of time erase

I yearned to take my true love there,

and share the poetry of this place.

The sloping hills, its leafy nooks

the Norman church that nestles between

I hoped to take my lover there,

exchange our vows within.

He’s with me now, upon my rock

as I gaze across to the snow capped hills,

his ashes dance across the waves

And yet he’s with me still.