Still..

and though the final moorings
of the now disparate armada
are but window sills and hall tables,
though he that crafted
each bough and mast
with tanned hands
and tender heart,
though he has crossed the bar,
and can no more be seen
than shadows in the dark,
still       
he stands on anchor watch,
as the sun illuminates the motes
of dust falling upon sails
that will never fill with wind.




© Laura Howard 2012

Stopping to remember something I'd forgotten

I too have promises to keep. 

They were made long ago,

Made in the sleep

Before coming into being.                

                                                               

Beneath lifetimes they lie hidden.

Once upon eternity

They were written

Somewhere in me like a blueprint.

Distant dreams I vaguely recall.

I'll pull them back to me

And make them all

My golden rules, my mission.

© Laura Howard 2012