That Place Poem by Eddie Imonyatt

Aloft she is, like a sky clear and blue. And shy is her smile made, by that touching haze, of a cloud so pure and white. Adorn her face it does, with the dazzling glow of a freckle kept in place.
And just like light upon a place dark and cursed, so she does away the ills that seek to plague. Their pull, of millstones upon my back, she scatters away with the ease of wind upon chaff.
Often she steals into my thoughts, with her poise that charms. Her rolling stride much with the guise of a nap that so does tempt, when late in the noon it beckons, but the world to make absent.
Far away she dwells, a town tucked deep in the south, and her presence she only reveals, to those with an eye that discerns. Her discreet ways giving her an allure, of an ancient city forever buried.
Like a goddess that changes form; she rises as a Mountain up and high, quiets down as a field open and wide, thrills as a valley that dips low beneath, and soothes as a beach bristled by the wind.
Her beauty is a reality made surreal, and if ever in her awe you’re caught, your breath she draws away, with a command that evokes a trance in you, its nuance to forever last, as would a hippie’s high.
How I rush to her, each occasion I break free from the grasp of time, that grips my throat with the threat of a choke. Her arms always kept wide open for me, as it kindles my mother’s warm cuddle.
At times I’m selfish with her company, as I take joy in the moments of solitude, stretched on hammock perhaps, as I be astounded by the bewitching calm, of a tide collapsing.
But on occasion I do share, with friends that are rare, and the hours we lay to waste, at a bar that be by the beach. The sand beneath our bare feet as ale we let to our heads, making sense off the mundane.