Poem 316 – A Poet’s Place

A speck of sand falls down
And lands upon the desiccated leaf
That lies upon the ancient ironstone,
Riddled with tunnels, unknown mysteries
To only be known by the roots of trees
And the six-legged ants
That scurry through those unknown ways.
The leaf, surrounded by the dust
Of dozens of other leaves,
Destroyed by the few minutes of sunlight
That burns them each evening as it passes by,
Lies within a hollow of stone,
That itself is placed beside a fallen oak
Once mighty, shading that secret place,
Now tumbled down, reliant on others,
Avoiding the ground only by leaning on other trees,
A place for moss to grow
And a quiet place for this poet to go.


Dear readers,

I am lucky enough that my parents’ house is near a rather large area of countryside, and there are a number of places that I have rather liked since I was a child. Last spring some rather intense storms knocked over trees, changing areas I have known for many years – this is one of those places. Perhaps I should have included a photograph…

Kind regards,

The Hapless Neo-Romantic


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