Ironbridge

by beeseeker

Work-a-day sun high burnin’

Growin’ dull, respectful red and cider-cold;

Dawn’s melody slowly turnin’

Becoming familiar, restful, old.

Harvest hopes answered

Ripening to warm-honey gold:

Friends will always know each other –

If their stories be honestly told –

That distance and language matter not

When time and hearts be weighed and sold.

30/7/2013

4 Comments to “Ironbridge”

  1. Nicely done – I especially like the suggested intonation… makes me feel right at home. Thanks!

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