When younger tongues
were free of froth
when softened air propelled
the word in hungered myths
of coppice smoke,
that somehow spoke of home...
Alone
but never lonely
in the healing of a wood
befriended
green redeemer stood
a deep fermented sense
of something constant..
Aug 25, 2024
Aug 25, 2024 at 1:02 AM UTC
When younger tongues
were free of froth
when softened air propelled
the word in hungered myths
of coppice smoke,
that somehow spoke of home...
Alone
but never lonely
in the healing of a wood
befriended
green redeemer stood
a deep fermented sense
of something constant..
Request permission to use this poem