Romy Neale

A lonely hermit

Contemplating his purpose

futile, he has none.

*

A delicate bloom

Trapped in an autumn grove

Silently weeping.

*

A distanced figure

A barren plain, in converse

A broken silence.

*

Unwavering will

A conquered mountain peak

The earth at my feet.

*

A pool of light tears

A mere drop in a night’s storm

The ripples, faded.

Copyright Romy Neale 2014

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