for Auntie Maddy
A roar past the carriage window
Hurries on westwards.
In the silence pursuing,
In a meadow, slow-moving,
Two lovers continue a distant wooing,
Strolling Land’s Endwards.
Then amid a puff and rumble
two tired blue eyes appear
to ask quietly at the window:
Why are you here? Put me
in a box, best place, she’d said
And shut blue eyes for good.
The lovers trundle out of view
But now against fresh waving trees
Her old eyes journey on. They gaze
From foliaged happier days,
And smile as they were wont to do.
©Terry Hodgson2020
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