The Bell

Lines written @ Mas San Peyre- Le Broc, France.

The bell still tolls its sombre chime
Perched perilously high,
Recounting with each heartless note
Those lives that wandered by.

Long-absent now the praise that swelled
To fill your lofted spire,
Crickets mass to fill the void
As nature’s serving choir.

In twists the ivy wraps its veins
And grips the hollow tower,
Long sucked-dry the spring deserts
The stem that starves the flower.

As feet towards their future tread
Mine return me here,
Seeking through the haze of time
One that I held dear.

A butterfly’s persistent wings
Whisper close at hand,
That self-same spell that shaped the past
Leaves patterns on the land.

Oh swinging bell, you can’t relent,
I know your voice rings true,
Yet as I feel each woeful beat
I blame my grief on you.