Waters Edge

The flow of this poem was blocked for a while but it did eventually emerge.




Waters Edge - 06 and 09 Apr 10

Standing at the waters edge
Feeling the little touches
On my toes
As I look out to see
The horizon
And ask myself, what is beyond?

Can it be the promises offered
Will be fulfilled...
Or be stillborn

Weaving the threads
Taken from the setting sun,
Into a new dream
Colour filled, colourful
Waiting for the moon
To fade into view
To show herself
As guide
As protectress
And the weaver
Of our lives

Show me the dreams
Dust off the old dreams
Shine up the ones
That haven't tarnished too much
And bring out the new
Still wrapped in their
Cotton wadding

Weave them in with
The promises
Keep them dry
But the occasional tear
Will not cause the colour
To run

The promises offered
May be fulfilled
Some may die
But...
Watching as they grow
With hope

On the waters edge
Feet washed by the waves
The horizon doesn't seem
So far...





This poem has now been completed despite the little hitch of being accidentally shown as a work-in-progress, suddenly I found the threads in my hand and it was but a small task to weave them into the new cloth.