Meeting Old Friends - Poem by Phil Ward
Perched high on a cliff overlooking the sea,
A black-headed gull was peering at me,
I’d come to meet some old friends of mine,
At a place that I love where I can be free.
Powerful waves with the sun on their crest,
Touching them lightly on the catwalk all dressed,
In their fine Sunday blue suits with long thin white caps,
A parade for the privileged at nature’s behest.
They rush up towards me they’re eager to greet,
Then bow on the rocks and lie at my feet,
They melt in an instant and fade from my gaze,
Like an army of soldiers on the sound of retreat.
Sitting up high and enjoying the show,
I exchange with a gull, as I’m ready to go,
I’m watched as I’m leaving, a witness I’ve left,
With a nod of respect of what happened below.
Glorious freedom I’ll come here again,
Some time in the future I’d have missed them by then,
Sharing intimate moments as we did for a while,
Now our spirits are married and our love will remain.
Comments about Meeting Old Friends by Phil Ward
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.