Strolling – Stream of Consciousness

Strolling

kick up scattered pebbles that cross my path

sun sheets hang on tentacle boughs

my heart warm as the sun

music plays in my head ….cellos and violins and spanish guitars

a plethora of sounds ….a symphony of elements and bouncing coloured notes

dancing with my thoughts

that make me smile

a stave jouncing in rhythm to the strums

I stroll and imagine life in the woods

when I was young

capturing visions of fairies and elves

and all that is good

they dance upon the fallen tree trunks

and call to baby fawns

I crouch in hiding and hear them giggle

watch them pirouette amongst the leaves

the music does this as I stroll and watch and feel the sun

with a smile inside my heart

For Alastair    http://alastairsphotofiction.wordpress.com/2013/05/26/photo-fiction-sunday-26th-may-2013/

The picture from Alastair may be fog – however I took it as sun.. Thank you Alastair. If anyone enjoys photo prompts, please go and visit and join in the fun and challenge.

Winter is approaching – Prose

stand centred
the inner circle
surrounded by
the ancient
my private sanctuary
I don my winter coat
of thoughts

wind lashes icy
against my cheek
razor blades
of a colder season
grey clouds multiply
play catch in the air
amid blackened skies
before night falls

I wait

inhale secrets
I beckon creatures
timbers crack
bristled whispers
the woodland starts
to breathe
creatures nocturnal
step cautiously
from daylit homes

the distance
the pack howls
with throats
stretched tight
guttural baying
to the opaque moon

footsteps soft on
moistened moss
quenching thirsts
at river beds
insects wary scurry
from the pray
the dark is coming

I am not afraid

darkness penetrates
I am a kindred spirit
where I stand
connect me with the
sounds of living on
this night

winter hard as stone
call forth my muse
from summer past
inspiration drawn

my muse awakes

my breath draws in
no longer does she
sleep within

I shall tend to your feet Pop

The other week-end I gave my Pop (dad) a pedicure. At almost 86, he has trouble bending down to tend to his feet.

I slowly removed his sandals and sat beside him on a small stool. He was worried that I would hurt my back by sitting this way….

Yours nails I cut carefully
and removed old skin
then massaged cream gently
along each of your feet

You thanked me for what you called a
‘laborious task’, to me it gave
me joy
to help see to the feet of my
father who was once a
little boy

As I massaged the cream
into your skin
I thought of where
your feet had been

These feet that were bare and told to stand in snow in a European Winter.
These feet that walked to the timber pile to chop wood for your step – father, the fire you were not allowed to be warmed by.

These feet that had to walk up the staircase where you were told to eat your meal, alone,  whilst the rest of the family ate downstairs in comfort at the table.

These feet that gave you the strength to escape from Czechoslavakia during the War, to cross mountains, hide on trains, trudge through forests, swim through rivers and nearly have your life ended twice by a gun held at you by the KGB.

These feet that brought you to Australia, to start a new life, to build a house for a family that you knew you would one day have, though you had no carpentry skills.

These feet that ran and played shuttlecock with us, the times that we went camping.

These feet that walked next to me on the day that I was wed.

These feet now older
that hold your struggling
legs and body
these feet are not a ‘laborious chore’
to me, my father

These feet have travelled many miles
through great adversity
saw you start a business
accomplish many things
I shall tend to your feet

as I love you
I shall tend again, again
and again

Below are two other posts, that I wrote last year about this amazing man I know as Pop, please click if you would like to read. https://ramblingsfromamum.wordpress.com/2012/10/07/pop-my-dad-i-love-you/

https://ramblingsfromamum.wordpress.com/2012/09/13/my-dad-affectionately-pop/ ‎