Days Spent

Just places where great waters and grand mountains meet

Just places where great waters and grand mountains meet

Days Spent

High on a rooftop out in cold soft rain,

Where the day’s morning to silence falls.

Two companions converse and wait

Shaded behind a dry stone chimney tall

With a long Bottle of last night’s wine

As in such quite, much fleeing water falls

Across chipped and cracked red tiles

A first floor’s ceiling leaks below

While these morning winds now pickup

Their once soft voices begin to grow

When daybreak’s lightening dances

To these quick, these gradual waking tunes

Echoing of forgotten past Spring thunder

The stack’s grand shadow keeps them dry

Two companions high on a rooftop

Remembering the many long days spent

Those days in Scotland, Ireland and Wales.


A poem for those days when the weather reminds us of the stories.





8 responses to “Days Spent

  1. Beautiful Sean… I love the way you emplaced this two friend on the roof as if they were looking up to the sky or just down to the ground as they talk and remember old times. tIt makes me think of eyewitnesses in a foggy day… trying to reconstruct what they lived, how it happened, “who” they were by then.
    hanks for sharing, best wishes, Aquileana πŸ˜›

    • Perhaps it does work a little like that… Weather finds me remember events and tales more clear than an ordinary day. And I always find rooftops interesting places, perspective is varied. πŸ™‚

  2. So nice to read your words again. As so often, there’s a deep sense of nostalgia here. Weather (especially when connected to season) and memory are constant companions.

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