{ … A Place … }

I know a place of green and blue
With aging fence and turning breeze,
Where once I ran when life was new,
And I was at my ease —

It is now as it ever was.
My feet can feel the downy grass;
I see, from off the riverside
Some bluebirds as they pass —

And memory, that liar’s torch,
Finds confirmation in the fact
Of all that was and is, without
Commotion to distract

For only in the emptiness
Of what is felt when mind is stilled
Could I know what has gone amiss
With what my heart’s been filled —

I know a place of open field
Where I am young again, in mind,
And where there still is space to run,
Or even leave some things
Behind

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “{ … A Place … }”

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