ReclaimedA Poem by Chris ShawNature has a way or reclaiming what was hers.
Sunken stones lie undisturbed
on graves of strangers where I pass. Unloved bedside old English oaks half-hidden in the uncut grass. In hallowed ground for many years, discarded by much travelled kin. No doubt they've met their sunsets too, their allocated time beset by other setbacks, other ghosts. The headstones host the climbing vines, which creep, entwine and leave their mark, invading open spaces with their mocking of the chiselled parts that name the long forgotten dead. Bindweed and ivy wander free, extend across the cherabhims a trail which links their tiny wings, unchecked, unhindered as they spread. Yes, nature has its stubborn streak, reclaims in time, what's left behind. And I recall a railway line, unused where steam once fogged the air, that's smothered now in rambling green. Between the tracks where shadows fall, are trees and saplings stretching tall and echoes of the past are lost like vapour trails in atmosphere.
© 2018 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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Added on July 18, 2018Last Updated on July 18, 2018 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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