The Start of the Salmon Season in England
Everyday was summer, cliff edge house, the Northern Sea.
We caught game
and drove Japanese.
The novel naivety of an electric roof.
Often you stood.
Half in and half out,
the breeze would blow a smile across your beautiful face.
Living like monks,
before the dissolution of monasteries.
Everything in our world was good.
But coasts erode, winter corrodes
and words now fall like winter rain from your mouth,
denouncing past ways of living.
And we, an analogy,
for a perfunctory smile
and the
end of the salmon season in England.
© swissterrace 2023
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A story, that jags the mind, in its use of imagery, the end feeling of reminiscence and loss.
Thanks for this……..Dodge
Hello…thanks for this comment. A bit of a continuation of a theme from my last effort…need to get something else in my head now. thanks
I am going to say it: I enjoyed reading this, swissterrace. That is to say I appreciated your writing skill. Sad, and somehow brutely nostalgic, I thought.
Allen
Thanks for saying it much appreciated. Good comments.
Beautifully crafted bitter sweet slice of reality.
A pleasure to read.
Hi sorry for not commenting earlier. Thanks for this comment. Bitter sweet. Yes