Old Year


They cut through the hillside revealing the light.They found me with my coat sleeves fraying in soft threads. Velvet eyed in the twilight, as stunned a moonstruck doe!
With the door hanging on its hinges as though it no longer fitted its frame.
I asked you where you were going; you turned slightly but I could only see the hill beyond, gleaming as if it would take you forever.
I have your hair wrapped round my finger that will not let me marry.
The moon clock is never telling the right time now. I sift the leaf mould with this little gold sieve; trying to augur the crystals, the worms and the stones, the telling of what happens now…


Words and photograph by Veronica Aldous  2016 all rights reserved


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Lulu.com. Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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