Icy Wind

The next step that I take

Will be the furthest I have stood.

Across my face,

An icy wind.

Below my feet

lay stone and wood.

–

Along the tracks,

Of steel and rail,

The old towns are detained.

And though I moved,

Through rain and hail,

My shadows have remained.

–

And so it went,

Throughout the nights,

Leaving ghosts within my wake.

To haunt those moments,

left behind,

Life’s endless give and take.

–

That icy wind

invades my lungs.

My lips are cold and dry.

By day the clouds 

Lock up the sun

By night, a different sky.

–

I hear the buzz.

It rides the wind.

This city like a hive.

The souls I meet

Along the way

Will keep my ghosts alive.

–

Westward bound

The gulls’ crying sound

That icy wind doth blow.

The wheel turns round

With magic found

Embalmed in a rainbow glow.

–

To the east I am faced

With a city encased

In a wall of living stone.

Whose cracks tell stories,

Of deaths and glories,

And my ghost will not haunt there alone.

–

I cross the land

And passing by

Are stone and grass and tree.

That icy wind 

Is softer now,

The sun has broken free.

–

I’m calling down

To London Town 

This train is headed south.

It’s famous eye 

stares down on me.

The Thames, its gushing mouth. 

–

That icy wind 

She’s back once more,

As the sun enters the Glen.

Upon these waters

A secret shared

And in the Loch, I am born again.

–

I stare across 

this gothic town,

Its castle stood upon the hill.

And up and down,

That cobbled path,

My ghost is walking still.

–

I cross the land,

One final stride,

Passing fields anew.

Back into 

that city hive 

And this time, passing through.

–

That icy wind

Feels colder now

As I breathe the ocean in.

The streets we walk

Are filled with song

And my spirit loves to sing.

–

My journey ends

The dance is done

To home my flesh is bound,

But waltzing along,

That icy wind,

My spectres can be found.

–

For We haunt this land,

My chilling ghosts,

Dawned in scarf and coat.

We trod it’s earth

And we drink it’s worth.

Guzzled down our throats.

–

I harken back 

To moments shared,

the souls that touched my own.

My skin yearns for

That northern air

That once chilled me to the bone.

–

But I’ll dwell not on 

that icy wind, 

That glacial howl that blows unkind.

And I’ll raise my glass

In memory of

those ghosts I left behind. 

–

Slàinte mhath!

Nessie Roswell