The Diary of a Countryside Lady on 20.5.2010 @ 11.30
20 May
Traversing
a little known path today,
on my own
- well - in point of fact
accompanied with a lone,
drone
of a female,
[dull brown]
blackbird.
She of little renown.
Mind full of rhymes & versing,
rehearsing
some performance poetry.
Twasn't absurd,
I love the solitude
which doth often so elude
a work orientated
populace.
Employment 'tis surely over-rated.
I peruse
as I fuse
the stoppered-up [as yet] words,
& muse
cold
as I meander.
Shame, the old,
untold
number of houses go.
Flattened!
Now grown o'er with newly cut grass - gone to seed
or the occasional couch-grass weed!
But the walkways still remain.
and blackbirds - fattened
on the well fed worms,
which now squirms
out of the heat!
Dandelion clocks
slowly rocks,
blow lazy
in the hazy
sun - gentle touch on the cheek like satin,
this Spring matin.
Sudden came upon the memorial stone
dedicated to Craig -Millar
the baby boy,
who brought no joy
to his mother,
but some [anonymous] others.
I was sore mistaken
gazing in this baking
Mayday heat,
Incorrect thought
he lived on
as he ought,
yet now discover he's long gone,
anon.
A decade since.
The knife of fate
doth fall
for no rhyme,reason nor call.
Yet he's not forgotten,e'en whence,
thence
encumbered with a rotten outlook,
in his shortened lifespan
of pain & strife.
Never grown now to be a man.
So as I knelt,
keenly felt
I ought to compose
this li'l bitty
of a ditty
& rhyme
for all @ s1 Craigmillar
to take time
out to remember Craig Millar.
Copyright held @ AMC2010
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