Poem: Dylanesque

A blackbird is singing, grass growing high
There’s a soft cotton dress on the line hanging dry
The window’s wide open, Acacia trees
Yellow wash gently in a warm summer breeze
He sits at his desk, pencil in hand
Watching and waiting for his grey dove to land

A train rumbles slowly, along the old track
There’s smoke in the air from behind the shack
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
A young girl is out there upon a white horse
He sits at his desk, pencil in hand
Watching and waiting for his grey dove to land

A faint message appears in the hand of Hermes
Love and affection ‘mid the fluttering leaves
Hope is rekindled, and his brave life it does float
Cool is the wind as he picks up his coat
He sits at his desk, pencil in hand
Watching and waiting for his grey dove to land

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Author: seagullnic

Writer, editor, lecturer and part-time musician. Passions in life: my family, Bob Dylan, music of many genres, Brighton and Hove Albion FC, cooking plus good food and wine.

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