Rosalie Nish

© Rosalie Nish 2005

At Crammonds Waterfall

At Crammonds waterfall I stood,

listening to the still white noise

there, a penny farthing propped

shining blue and bright

against the wall

looked once,

twice,

three times

and the man watched,very proud,

of his machine, from the past.

No words pass.

He mounts while in motion

Swiftly,softly through the trees

His crisp red gauntlets I could not miss

Where do they go

Where do they wish to go

Wherever, whatever, I know he will not fall.

The Open Gate

The open gate leads to life,

A life unknown until

I walk through the gate at will.

As I see with my own eyes

The college standing very bold

Monastery of old,

The long straight path awaits

not a sound and all I hear

is my own steps towards

that place that seems so far

but within my reach so near

I smell with all my might

The scent of curiosity

But never tells, just overwhelms