The Gap of Dunloe

The stranger we passed, musing to her friend
heading in a different direction.
Proclaimed; the world was comming to an end,
we had to prepare for an inspection.

Then she was describing fuchsia hedgerows,
thickets and names of forgotten flowers.
I'd met her before. Goodness only knows
when? or where? But in the early hours.

Overheard crimes of lovers lamented,
whispered promises the stars never told,
float and drift on mountain streams fermented,
that we will remember when we grow old.

Abandoned cottages, stray dogs, riders,
girls' and boys' voices that echo. Echo.
rays of sunshine aim arrows of midas.
Forever walking the Gap of Dunloe.


Capability Red         November 2017