Photo by Josiel Miranda from Pexels, for The Sunday Muse prompt #53
You have wandered through the wilds,
labouring in the shadows of seven hills
through caverns carved by seven rivers
to a far place, a distant country.
Hurtful words tossed into the wind
hang like a broken shroud flapping in the wind,
heavy with intention, a reminder of the way
things were but now are not.
But as you linger on the edge of the sea
wondering if you have wandered too far this time
I see you and call your name.
For the Day 2 prompt, a poem about questions.
What is this which zips
around my ears, its sound
like the deep hum of an old man
hunched down, stirring up the sand.
It shimmers in the morning light
its back a splash of gold splayed
across the sky, against which stand
the silhouettes of great metal tubes
bending to its will. What is this
but the wind, which goes wherever