Saturday, 30 June 2012

The Walkers.

The Walkers.
An original poem by Lynn Barnard.
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Feet begin trekking towards the crest of the hill,
Friends fondly chatting, new friendships form,
Sunshine peeking through marshmallow clouds,
Morning dew glistening below on the ground.

Boots working, stomping their way up the slope,
Laughter, companionship, new stories told,
Skin being warmed from the fast rising sun,
Fresh as a daisy, folk having fun.

Breath coming fast as they climb to the top,
Sun risen high now, feeling wonderfully hot,
Stopped still in their tracks, a gorgeous meadow below,
Grass swaying gently, almost saying hello.

Five poppies swaying beside the stone wall,
Sheer crimson petals on green stems so tall,
Walkers march past, searching adventures ahead,
Behind are the poppies, left to honour our dead.

This is a really good first poem, by any standard. I loved it and knowing Lynn makes it seem so much more alive. Well done and keep em coming.... x

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