… The encroaching threat of occupation (Channel Islands, 1940) …
Close your eyes.
~
Rest.
Soft sand,
a gentle cushion,
warm honey light,
fluttering from the sea.
Ice water,
oozing,
creeping,
closer.
Cold shadows coming,
crawling across,
tarnishing day,
jolting a shiver –
convecting currents
ballooning above
in the untold dimensions
of the massive of your mind …
~
Eyes closed.
~
Resting.
~
Laughter floating,
lapping away to uncover the silence behind.
Your back to the earth, facing
down to the sky,
falling,
forward to
infinity.
The faint coast of France
no more a dream,
smoke hanging
as fires sprout.
Minutes trickle
to night, drawing
us to our doom.
~
With no return?
Nicholas Rowe Poetry 