A STEP IN TIME
A worn and weather
beaten stile
Gnarled hand holds
of lichen crust,
Sits waiting
patiently in an ancient meadow,
For strolling
lovers, swept along
On blissful summer
breeze.
Its friend the oak,
of wise countenance
Huffs his leaves,
he’s seen it all before,
Whereas the stile,
he kisses the feet
As they take the
step in time.
For centuries he
has watched
Loves young dream carried
above him,
The next meadow to
wedded bliss
But, the oak has
seen a different path.
The meadow a
killing field,
Where love lies in
squalid trench
Where what was Smile
is grin of death.
All feet have
trodden o’er the stile
With the oak
shaking a sermon in the wind.
Though today, as
the sunlight
Drips in molten
shards through
The oaks fingered
leaves, he just quivers.
Summer is here, hum
of bee and bug
Nuthatch relieves
his itching bark,
As lovers approach
hand in fair hand
He offers shelter
and shady nook.
The stile and the
Oak like old dowagers
Offer a knowing
glance,
They give this love
a blessing
The step in time
Given a chance.
Phil Hall May 2013
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