michael mourne

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The Lost Field

The Lost Field

I have viewed a familiar field
when a fading sun has cast the dark shadows
of players long gone and half forgotten.
The one field which is laden with riches
and asks all to give body and soul to possess it.

Soon the rain, borne on the shoulders
of the strong wind will cleanse
and make room for those not yet called.
Those who will dream of leaves and sunshine.

The rising moon will cut through wounded limbs
which will never heal.
Whilst the silence of a cast off boot
in the room's dark corner
echoes the rustle of departing footsteps.
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© Michael Mourne

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