The Phoenix Rises

By sheilaM

Silver

Just imagine if the moon was gold.

Gold

The moon was cold
as gold.


(Just as well it's silver.)


Silver

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare


Number 2 son dropped off for the 16th birthday of Abigail.
Number 1 son in bed early, to be picked up at crazy o'clock by A.I.M.E. for a 21 st in Scarborough.

Us? Well we might just have a wee party of our own.
Night all.

Comments
Sign in or get an account to comment.