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Oct 2018
LOST IN FRANCE

In the distance
a dog throws its voice

so it seems
the trees are barking.

Sun and shadow
playing tag

between rows and rows
of trees.

France is made of
landscape and light.

I feel as if I am
walking in a painting

that is wet yet.

I nothing but
a mobile little smudge.

I drink in the light
as if my soul thirsted for it.

Now a yellow dog
leaves its post

to chase me half way
down its road.

Now a Yorkie
guards the crossroads.

Here a sheepdog
silently trails me

until it has successfully
seen me off its turf.

I smile sheepishly.

I, lost and found
all at the one time.

Finally the road turns and
the village runs out to meet me.

I, now only lost
in wonder.
Donall Dempsey
Written by
Donall Dempsey  Guildford
(Guildford)   
  1.5k
 
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