The Linnet's Wings The Winter´s Tale, Ravens and Robins - Page 13

The Linnet´s Wings Stones at my Feet by Bill West I tugged hope tight about me and went through streets marbled by moon stepped between puddles of memory searched for the lost and misplaced cast out into abandoned gloom. I found a dead cat, a matchbox, a letter the annotated works of women, written on tombs a comb, my uncle’s sideboard and his wig rakish atop a spittoon. How I ached for all I had forgotten a kiss a touch a blow and how I grieved for lost hours lost moments tomorrows never known A wind drove me out from the city into gentle hills and fields to a wood where a stream lapped lightly and the stones at my feet and the stones at my feet were smooth. Bill West ( Previously published in “The Linnet´s Wings” ) 13