Thursday, 1 October 2015

Acrostic Sonnet for Whitleigh

Acrostic Sonnet for Whitleigh

Wend through these ancient Whitleigh trees
Hiding blooms of Cuckoo Flower,
Infused with misted eau de vie
Time flows by on seasons showers.
Lancaster Gardens; bridle path
Encapsulating ghosts of old,
Indentured men grind plane and lathe
Gladdened nights wrap darkened folds.
Hewing five-bar farm gate and post

Guarding green fields of Budshead Road,
Ribboning west towards the coast;
Echoing Whitleigh Hall's abode.
Elegies sing of hearth and home,
Now here we rest, no more to roam.

(c)  Ruth Muttlebury

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