A Cob and his Pen.

That rippling sound, easy on the ear

How I gloried in it, not a tear I shed.

 

The lake mirrored your reflection

Silence, the sound of your nearness.

 

Reeds swayed in the gentle breath breath

of the following zephyr

touched my soul, its beauty.

 

Needing comfort the lake is my first port of call.

Never feeling alone.

(c) Chris Black 2017.

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4 thoughts on “A Cob and his Pen.

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