Ask Not
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By Ewan
Wed, 11 Nov 2020
- 1224 reads
4 comments
2 likes
In the park,
up on the high Edge,
overlooking the valley and its silent mills,
the leaves fall;
orange, ochre, sienna
and even a hot vermillion.
Around the figure
on its pedestal,
branches have kept their counsel:
the old flagstones
named after the county
are bare of discarded foliage.
The list of names
has Smiths, Browns, Wilsons
and a dozen multi-syllabic, white-rose signifiers.
A woman cries,
both sides bemedalled
and none speak to ask for whom the tears fall.
At eleven,
the church bells ring
tolling for the long dead, from a mile away.
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Comments
Sombre and very moving.
Permalink Submitted by sean mcnulty on
Sombre and very moving.
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This is so beautifully done
Permalink Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on
This is so beautifully done Ewan - thank you for posting it
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