Conbrio
loosestrife |
Tangled barbwire thistles, broken bricks Glass green emerald shards Hillocks and mounds A bombscape field of adventure Black broken down bicycle Chariot of fire, armored car Hurtling through the air Mud, blue sky, sweat and adventure At 12 it seemed like paradise As I patrolled my city block Bombed flat ten years before Strange how a war torn field In a city of destruction Became my escape to nature But the thistles, the nettles, Purple loosestrife in profusion Were my glory My whirlwind adventure And my black rusty steed It was my freedom from repression And sometimes, rarely I went with Margaret there She was my soulmate In the forests of a chapel We built a wooden house there Like Robin Crusoe in a city block But this place was behind tall walls Of decaying brick, crumbling And within behind the white and black Chapel A forest, wild in the city confusion Dense thickets of young sycamores That we cut and hewed And created our seclusion there A secret place in a secret world Of youthful joys, native creation Copyright © September 28, 1999 Michael David Coffey |
