THE UMBRELLAS OF STONEHENGE

“She craved a presence beside her, solid. Fingertips light at the nape of her neck and a voice meeting hers in the dark. Someone who would wait with an umbrella to walk her home in the rain, and smile like sunshine when he saw her coming. Who would dance with her on her balcony, keep his promises and know her secrets, and make a tiny world wherever he was, with just her and his arms and his whisper and her trust.”

 

- Laini Taylor

 

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=saC7AyalPmc

RAIN... RAIN... - SERGEY GRISCHUK

С. Грищук - А дождь всё льёт..

 

The lines blurred

for once I could not find the words

I lay down close just listening

for the heartbeat of the Earth

and a message from long-lost ancient gods

clothed loosely in a silken gown

white as snow and cold wind-blown

one hand on heart the other reaching up

to place on grey and worn-out stone

the silvered chalice; the mercurial cup

lips stained red from wine and kissed

bruised purple smudges by your lips

packing up our Winter clothes

waiting for the Spring that knows

all our secrets within our hearts

and all the little lies and darts

sweet arrows that left a little sting

felt by angels with butterfly wings

and now that time has come again

amid the humidity; the steaming rain

Summer

almost Solstice

Stonehenge

warm as toast poultice

seal the wound

and balm my soul

calm my spirit down

while ancient spirits set to rise

a nearby black as soot crow cries

echoing through the eons

umbrellas raised

torrential rain

drops and rolls

across the plain

I've been here often

now again

but this time I am passing by

stopping; starting

flying high

the lonely figures on the hill

seem freeze-framed like a vintage film

a moment caught in memory

the blinking of an eye that's all

I wave to them goodbye

they don't see me but I am told

the camera never lies

yet I have photographed distortion

blown-up out of all proportion

darkened the original

flipped the same; a mirrored image

a parallel doppelgänger of each one there

a faded revenant; a remnant of a past affair

who are those people who didn't stare

I'll never know

I am as much a ghost as they

I will return; not now

but on a different day

and all that will remain will still be there

indifferent ghosts and other people

making memories to store

finding less and wanting more

no doubt the rain will pour and pour

until it washes clean away

the revenants and the remnants

of this and many other days

and whispers on the wind will flow

into the ears of lovers long ago

and past and present and the future will

be cast like giant rune stones upon this hill.

 

- AP - Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author

 

Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission

 

 

Done