Coming Home

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Picture: A R Quinton

From waterfalls to stepping stones, meandering
across history’s bones, I am halted by a sound,
the sound of mandolins.

Sinewy and tempered, the strings play their song,
accompanied by a chorus made up of flocking doves.
I stroll and become enamoured before succumbing
to temptation and falling in love with fate. Tumbling heathers
bow and lend to gentle footsteps, crooning whilst retracing
a long forgotten voice.

I rest a while in contemplation and let myself be trampled
by hordes of folk returning, who hear the strumming
soothes of a sound, a sound from deep within.

 

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Author: Anita Lubesh

I write poetry/prose/stories/short stories/verses for children/sketch/and have 6 chapters of a novel sitting there like that half eaten trifle in the fridge or bottle of Jack Daniels because something makes you afraid to eat it or drink... right now.. I am a proud Geordie from England's northern hemisphere and the beautiful city of Newcastle upon Tyne. I live with my lovely husband who came all the way from sunny California just for me, and my favourite animal, Bobble, our dog. I am a member of Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth and wish we could all do more, especially today, when such a lot is wrong.

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