.
The larks playing on a summer breeze,
and finches darting in betwixt the trees,
my mind is enthralled by what it sees.

A lark lands on my shoulder,
and it sang to me a secret,
I would love to tell it to you,
but I promised I would keep it.


© Pagan Paul (15/08/18)

I think of him less now
and it frightens me
the best artists are heart broken
but I feel myself mending

.
A whirlwind of stagnant breeze
disturbs the warmest stillness.
Solar rays shimmer and coalesce
forming images of the Summer Girl.

Fragrant scents in light colours
float gently from her hair.
Flowers laced with golden thread
adorning her head like a wreath.

Chasing the shadows of clouds
across the heat haze so strange.
Her body lithe and newly alive
darting and flitting dragonfly style.

Arriving at the painting of the dawn
and here to nurse the day.
Leaving at the doom of sunset,
wisping images of the Summer Girl.



©Pagan Paul (07/06/14).

A lifespan maybe short for achievements
Yet
Peace is Attainable