RSS Feeds

Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Summer Land

Somewhere
there are birches,
and they are covered with snow
and pale light,
and there are footprints
on a road between them,
and it is a foggy dream,
perhaps in morning,
between one of those pauses
where day passes into another room,
but the road leads somewhere,
to the heart,
to joy,
to sorrow,
buildings where I walk
and know islands of art,
and bottles of music,
and my life is new,
and there is a sun that refuses to set,
a moon that hovers like a pearl,
and all ages seem one,
and all love
belongs to a woman of a thousand faces.

So where do I go
in this life without birches?
A road to great buildings?
A fog that hangs like a diaphanous cloak,
and a language
more music than words,
in a place where I go
to see you,
and hold you,
and share flowers in summer?

Leave a Reply