Posted on Dec 6, 2015


prelude to a storm Picture courtesy of

Picture courtesy of

The silent dawn
greets tired souls
Not a thing stirs
out in the chill of dawn

Rough sleepers snug
tight in their sleeping bags
No birdsong their alarm
clock this morn

Some up to prepare
for Sundays roast
Kitchens hot with
their toil

This a day of rest for
Whilst others work
to pay the bills

But for most
it’s just a prelude
A crescendo building
to the coming onslaught!

Oh for a chance
of escape
By calm waters
or mystical mountains

Away from the
stresses of conformity!
Away from the chains
of restraint!

Posted in: Poetry