Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds. The latter cannot understand it when a man does not thoughtlessly submit to hereditary prejudices but honestly and courageously uses his intelligence.

Friday 16 November 2007

childhood memory

There was only a void, no memory
Only a vague image she could see
Shapes moving in a dull grey mist
A ring of stones set around a cyst
Hillside opening, and dark caves
Light moving, a hand that waves
Sparkling dust shining on a road
Grey hooded figure along it strode
Then the farmhouse, the babies cry
A tinkle of laughter, in joy, a sigh
Into the cradle, she was gently laid
Childhood memories now do fade.

1 comment:

Yorkshire Pudding said...

Are you sure you ar "in accounting"? To me you sound like you're "in poetry"!