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The rain transplanted state of mind
to fixtures of distinguished stretches,
resistant to conformity and hallowed leaps,
benign through requiems of healing found,

Skylines six feet underground where life moved
in golden shadows, the little drops, the augmented skin,
soul’s away today, waiting for inclination’s visualised
within, without, legacy and collection,

Simple smiles to awaken
inner understanding,

They washed away the guise of dissension,
Seeing the world between makeshift replacements
for all the despair each fickle felt heart bestowed,
mother warmed with rays of volume resounding

Through the earth as electric clashes, reshaped masses,
stronger than the roots they glide, each side defied,
encouraged by the dewdrops of delicacy in the stream,
in each new life,

The wind picks up, and how we dream…


Poem © Phen Weston 2015


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