Monday, 11 August 2014

Tabula Rasa

Blank. As a fresh winter morning,
after snow has fallen,
covering the ground
in a crisp white sheet;
like paper

- this sheet of paper -

in front of me.
Slowly being marked;
inscribed with ink.
Words, phrases,
lines of a poem,
tracing down the page -
like a path of footprints
through the snow…

Voices ring
through this frozen landscape,
children’s laughter rises,
growing louder over time.
Hands and faces red
as a robin’s breast,
in the cold air.
They run and dance and fall
leaving memories in the snow.

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