Behind our house a curve of railway track,

beyond, a wooded landscape, rising steeply.

I crossed the tracks and wondered through the blackened

scrub, I found a path, and followed, keeping

to its twists and turns. The landscape changed,

misty grey then openness. A tiny

path emerged, departing from the main,

delicate, above, the tranquil sky,

I followed, soon a view of distant hills.

Why am I writing this? Beyond

our world is something more. Or this – infilled.

Reality. When lovers sense a fondness,

their individuality transformed, what is

becomes what will be, and will be what is.


For Jacob and Belinda, on their wedding day.

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