Travellers
Aug. 7th, 2013 02:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootMidnight I met
a toad clambering a muddy bank.
The moon stroked him gold
but he paid no attention.
His eyes were fixed
on Jupiter’s blue light
and he walked solemnly upwards
with no thought of returning.
Doffing my hat I knew
he would find his lucky star;
and when I found mine, he would nod
Remembering our meeting.
Copyright and all rights reserved Debbie Gallagher 5th August 2013.
And this must be my last poem for a while. These are just snippets in my head, pictures that come and go. I should try to think harder, to form plot and story, rather than just evoke. But there's a lot to think about, and I have problems putting any of it into words.
a toad clambering a muddy bank.
The moon stroked him gold
but he paid no attention.
His eyes were fixed
on Jupiter’s blue light
and he walked solemnly upwards
with no thought of returning.
Doffing my hat I knew
he would find his lucky star;
and when I found mine, he would nod
Remembering our meeting.
Copyright and all rights reserved Debbie Gallagher 5th August 2013.
And this must be my last poem for a while. These are just snippets in my head, pictures that come and go. I should try to think harder, to form plot and story, rather than just evoke. But there's a lot to think about, and I have problems putting any of it into words.
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