Dusk

Twenty or so if youth declares,
out of fuel on a parky night
blanked by eery-lit unforgiving
dry stone walls, trudged doggedly on,
mile after mile, youth’s gift to push
home through fear with salmon-like
fortitude, back from the godless moor,
like Scott, I boasted, or Kathy,
without a hint of irony.

Fifty or so if age discloses,
an independent woman timed it wrong;
clinging to cliffs pitched deep in night
petrified last rocky reflections
damned by awareness, inadequacy and
grazed knees; sliding towards
the unforgiving sea, mouthing –
I am old, mistaken, stupid, cold.
ENOUGH. Please rescue me.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s