Plains of grey unkept

As if wild and free

Where the horses play and weep

Surrounded by yards, fresh flesh

As the viola riviniana lurks at hearth

Adorning the grey empty canvas

In distant view the stone foretold a strain in life

A glimmering path,

Stone by grasp and glamorous in the midst of the dark

Let truth be told that stacked as one they shine and cry

Like the lightning in the rain

Like the thunder in the clouds

You hear the horses gallop

Hooves crushing earthly soil

Penetrating evanescent  Petrichor

Thundering through the fields

In fields of the spring

Of a countryside estate

Roaring down the rolling hills

Into the oasis of the belvedere

Boudicca's psyche thriving within

Observer of the war nature is

A ghost that's passed and here it stands

To fondle with it's name a face so heavenly

And here it stands

How pathetic it is leading the blind deer

Quite this fine manor of grey

The rays filled sky

Distant in sight

Fiery flare, warmth of grey

Heating tranquil waters to solemn feet

To a pond's fountain of the convalescent soul

Once wan from chills of winter

The Hand of Fatima caresses new spirits

Emerge from the depths, two sprites

Hand in hand, one in heart

In the grace of a touch

Eternal lingering of human sentience

Traces of the flesh

Hand in hand, one in heart