I peered down quizzically at the damp ground
Pulling sharply at a tuft of grass to see further
But it was tough and resilient, so much so
That I had to tear at it, ripping a fingernail in the process
Tag: Dark
WALKING WITH GHOSTS, Poetry by Lucy Williams
So cold and wet was it that daggers seemed to fall from the sky in the shape of rain.
We stood staring each other in the eye,
Book-ending a rubbish strewn alleyway in the worst part of town.
With that confident smirk on your face I knew you thought I didn’t have it in me.
Brushing your sodden brown hair out of brown eyes, the rain sparkling off your long lashes in the lamp light, you told me as much.
WILDsound Festival 