Thoughts on Walking Home
Walking through the dreaming lanes,
Walking, my limbs striding yet my mind motionless,
Like a watcher in the trees gazing on a vacant stranger.
I think on the evening, as a life’s memory,
Without wistfulness,
And casting my thoughts into the hollow sky
They pass like dim shadows across the brightening stars.
The veil of night tightens, a skin stretched and painted with dark colours.
Shuddering and waiting to break.
My cold fingers grasp my umbrella,
But how far am I treading with the shadow of my imagination?
A tree’s sky face becomes a mourning lace,
Or yet a setting for a star jewel
For giving to my love.
My cold numb feet pace out the steps
To home and a boxed security.
