Saturday, 5 September 2015

Lover's lament

She turned in her sleep
So he wrapped his arm round her
Dreaming she murmured

“Darling Paul” she said
The wind’s late whispered warning
Did not reach her ears

He was gone by morn
Hunted by the family
Of the dead woman

They did not find him
Long drowned dead by his own hand
In the deep peat bog

I am so restless
My beautiful and most fair
Oh how I miss her

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  1. Ooh I love the subterfuge...perhaps love is less complicated in the afterlife..reminds me of the West Country - Jamaica Inn and Tess...all that fog and atmosphere dripping in every word

  2. Such passion, such sadness in your words.

  3. Has a Wuthering Heights feel to it.