On that day I walked in the sunshine,
clothed in the thin cotton of decision.
The blackbird sang from the roof top
and the buzzard mewed, circling in the blue.
I stepped from the porch, leaving memories
in untidy heaps where I'd go no more.
The sun burnt off the grief and blinded me
with certainty, driving me onwards
to a strange country that is my home,
where the winds blow, the ice forms and
mists bring in rains to feed a new life.
The sunlit porch may still shine across
the years, but on this day I still choose
the storms and clearings of a fertile land,
ripe with tears and regret, enriched by strains.
On this day, I walk in the sunshine
clothed in man made fibres, waterproof in hand.
The blackbird sings and the buzzard mews.
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