Her beauteous curls were raven black; though rugged
and dim was onward track. She ran upon platform of
the wind; in swathes of dun and glaucous clad. Svelte
roseate lips fluttered apace; like a rocket sled swift on
rails. Thus heart began to thump and race; while love
bloomed round on morning train.
With smiles exchanged a moment rare; her world was
but a trembling flare. “Oh turn the wheel as one turns
a page; then let me breathe thus parting prayer. I am a
fool so much in love to care; with hope tinged on trails
of Lancashire.” She spoke in tones sedate with age.
Through the whistling sleet and snow;
Scrawled memoirs lovesome long ago.
Photo credits: wallpaperswide.com
Posted for Poetics @ dVerse Pub