Stone Junkyard

Walking through this stone junkyard,
Mist around my feet,
Dark sky,
Its night,
Dead trees,
Im alone in this place,

Long black leather jacket trailing,
Along the eerie mist,
I can feel the dirt under my heavy boots,
Dark figure lurking round,
Behind each height of the sculptured stones,
Gargoyles watch, with angels near,
Children and adults alike share one thing,
They share the ground together,
No lights are near,
Besides for the light of the moon,
No sound can be heard, apart from heavy breathing,
Smell the damp on the moss stones.

Envision the memories of this eerie place,
The heartache, the sadness, the grief,
That still does not compare,
To how I feel.

© 2006-2016

By Bryan Deakin

Hello and welcome to my site, my name is Bryan Deakin, 35yr old from Scotland. A Dyspraxic, Poet, Blogger and Community Activist, I studieda BSc(Hons) Sustainable Development, at the University of Highlands and Islands. Lover of all things Greek and Finnish, and a keen and active member of Falkirk SNP. Prior I was Vice President of Simple Machines, and Project Manager at Simple Machines Forum (SMF).

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.