Mist Like a Veil

A poem

photo from author

Hills across the water are shrouded in fine mist
it is raining over there
but appears like an antique veil
like my great-grandmother wore for her wedding

Masts of sailing boats loom in vivid reds and blues
the damp air hangs as if to dry
but there is stillness, no movement of air
pausing, I inhale the salt scent, the peace

All seems silently sleeping, like a spell cast
this is my soul food, this and woods
a warbler sings its song breaking the silence
with an enchanting song to woo his mate and nest

This water, sea, is my front garden, soothing,
nurturing my heart while it aches
for love and to love another, risk again

Hills across the water are shrouded in mist

The hush can be heard
in my inmost heart

Published in The Lark


Stranger things…

Ten weeks ago I remembered something that happened thirty years ago. It was seemingly insignificant, but is the reason one friendship never blossomed and a mutual friendship, though close and deep, has at times bewildered me because the other friendship never blossomed.

While we sleep, our spinal fluid washes our brain. It is necessary for our thinking. If this did not happen, we would go insane. So we dream. Mostly we don’t remember our dreams, but sometimes we do, or just a glimpse of it.

I was waking, still half asleep, when this memory came to my mind. Suddenly everything made sense. I felt the need to reach out to the person whose friendship never blossomed, bit I could not. There is no way. Then I thought to contact her brother, a friend. No, that would be inappropriate. So I shared my memory with the close friends. I have had ten weeks of silence from one, whilst there has been contact with the husband ‘half’. I have missed my friend, the ‘wife’ half. Both of them are much loved and treasured.

I wish I had not. I am told it is not true. My love for her has not changed. I don’t make things up, I don’t falter in my friendship. I don’t change when I find change.