Stolen - Poem by Alexander Harford
I would not envisage this in a dreamy delusion -
it is not a hazy-hallucination!
Confirmed by sun shining from blue skies
beautifully blemished by white-wisps;
it’s a paradise I’d never imagined.
Sprinkling, splashing, dousing, washing -
nourishing water hushing like silk over stone,
traversing without care, for it is free!
A smell so cool and fresh, cup your hands
and taste its innocence.
Air, water, flower and stone in harmony create perfection.
The Garden of Eden’s far-richer relation -
flourishes of heathers and trees and grass,
Shangri-La’s European cousin, but this one is real -
a green utopia of untouched elation.
If I wasn’t below the clouds,
I’d believe this was heaven.
To see the skies angered,
overcome by grey,
to see this gentle brute
escape its boundaries and power!
Rains fall – thunderstorm!
Water bounds like petrol bombs,
coarse crashing irrigations
against a rocky facia floods the plain!
The falls have stolen my heart;
My heart can stay.
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