Porth Ceriad

by

Frank S Rickards

You tread gingerly
Over the pebbles
Balancing like Picasso's clown

On a ball;

The waves fold
And launder the long sand
And high above the cliffs
Skylarks ring sanctuary bells.

Still you walk carefully
Over the washed stones
Arms gracefully balancing
And you don't look back.

I guess that before
You reach the pool
Between the pebbles
And the sea's edge

You will turn.

But you walk on
More easily now
Through the shallow water,
Shedding sea-light
With every step;
And the waves
Gather their green
And darken and fold
And spread their lace
At your feet.

(Strong and lovely
On your skin
The lion-gold sun!)

And now you turn
And come towards me
And in your eyes
A memory of lost horizons.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at senza titolo
by: Presti Salvatore
from: Palermo, Italy

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