Bleak, black, blocks of wood, writhing limbs
Pinned against the blue-grey, sea-shades of the sky
Where honey flavoured fingers of the sun
Unfurl their stiffened joints
To caress the ground beneath
And pour out affection on luminous blades of jade
A solitary figure, knock-kneed and balanced by a stick
Pulling a zipperless coat tight, with the one spare hand
Thrusts himself forward
Wading through the tempest
Into a bullion beam
Where dust mites dance around his head in lazy jubilation
Gnarled hand, grips tight, around gnarled wood
Whitewashed, waxen hair, molded to his head by rain
Gleams radiant in the beam’s glare
Rheumy eyes determinedly focus
On the aged oak tree ahead
Standing as it has since before his grandfather’s grandfather’s days.
Wood, darkened by the rain and scarred by the decades
Yields to the old man’s touch, tracing the time long-past, where
Now ancient, heart and letters
Were once painstakingly etched
Into the timber’s flesh
And bittersweet memories further blur already clouded eyes.
Fear of the reaper 
Reblogged this on HarsH ReaLiTy and commented:
Great imagery! I saw and felt this one. Very well written! -OM
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Thanks so much for the reblog and really glad you liked this, I get a bit shy about sharing poetry so the encouragement is appreciated.
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It was very good. I hate most poetry. 🙂
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Then I’ll value the compliment all the more 🙂
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This is really well written. I love the great attention to detail and the way you slowly unravelled the tale. It was enjoyable and enlightening to read this.
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Thanks very much, I’m really glad you liked it. I don’t tend to share a whole lot of poetry so it’s great to get some encouragement.
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Nice work! Well, not nice. That’s a crap word for describing things.
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It’s okay, I only find ‘nice’ deeply insulting if it’s used to describe me as an individual. I think ‘nice work’ with an exclamation mark works well!
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