Treasure Island

Franc Rodriguez


The Wuthering Winds Of Yester


Within the ridges dwells a hallow sanctuary.
In the moors is a silhouette of a lingering soul.
He is a waif who drudged upon his misery.
He went forth among his painstaking dole.
Whereupon the edges of heaven lain their abode.
There between the dells and the stream.
They are intertwined beneath the frith of the sod.
And it is sheltered by the morning gleam.
There rests the remains of a woman and a man.
And their legacy folks unto them bear homage.
In spite of his guise that was so gaunt and wan.
She loved him with all her heart bears the image.
Hitherto they are together upon a lone stilly knoll.
The sunset afterwards approaches from the distance.
One feels the presence of the caretaker a mere gull.
The Wuthering Winds of yester bear their romance.

Submitted: Thursday, April 18, 2013
Edited: Thursday, April 18, 2013

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