We'd lie atop the mountain, reminiscing...
We embraced the fears in hand, monumental.
Here mountains standards we came to climb,
We carved a jade path through the incidental…
Chain-mail dew-lit; frozen ice, there to smell the thyme.
Freshly crushed at dusk at morning sunrise
There's where we'd lay a throbbing, chanting, chorus
Starting out nervous, nothing else belies,
The way we shivered, sweated, yet, so porous…
After; love made low a wheat-field agleam.
Taking-on all the passionate golden-sun!
We'd rest in the silos multifaceted dream
Heavy, heady, with so much singing; still to be done.
Like foxgloves entwined with as many kissing
Mouths, we'd lie atop the mountain, reminiscing…
poem by Mark Heathcote
Added by Poetry Lover
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