THE PALE ROAD

The house is quiet, silent,
Except for the ticking of the big clock
At the bottom of the stairs,
Whose chimes keep company
With those who cannot sleep.

Just before dawn,
A thin moon slides in through the window
And in a moment those awake
Walk the pale road of remembrance,
Of longing, until the past
Becomes the pale road of prayer.

Let the clock chime again,
That the past may be left behind,
The moon soothe the restless heart,
The whispered words bring peace.

                      ©2021 Gwen Grant.  

  AN INDIVIDUAL SUMMER

There is a scent of roses here
As there was
In that quiet Cathedral.

Yet there are no flowers
At all,
Not here.

Not in this place of winter
And silent stones.

Only the flower of love,
That waits always for a chance 
To blossom
Wherever it can find a home.

                      © 2021 Gwen Grant.

ELLIE WAS POORLY

Ellie was poorly
This morning.
Her little face
Hot to the touch,
Her eyes barely able
To open,
Yet, still, when we left
She turned
To us,
And from deep within
Her small year and a bit body,
Conjured up a smile,
Her tiny hand
Waving goodbye
As we walked away,
Worry darkening
Our footsteps,
Love overwhelming us,
So that we couldn’t leave,
Had to go back and wait
Until she closed her eyes
And fell asleep.

            ©2021 Gwen Grant. 

 I live in an area that for hundreds of years was forest. Even as a child, I
remember woods and meadows unspoilt by factories and houses. I think
this little speedwell flower comes from the once lovely woods we used to
have, at least, the Speedwell that I’m writing about. I remember hearing
the name ‘Bird’s eyes’, when I was small and the thought of all the little
birds flying about without eyes made me cry! Our garden would have
been part of a forest floor a long time ago.

VERONICA CHAMAEDRYS

Bird’s eyes
In the garden,
Tiny blue flowers
Weaving over the grass
On stalks so thin,
They threaten
To break
At a harsh look.

Don’t be fooled.
This delicate
Dot of blue
Will still be there
When everything else
Has gone.

Including me and you.

        ©2021 Gwen Grant.