The rocks below are cold and hard with age;
The leaves attached to trees in Autumn fall;
A love that's filled with ecstasy and rage,
Is not dismissed when ghosts at night do call.
In dreams at night reality is found,
By souls entwined through love and hatred deep.
Though birds are free in sky and I on ground,
Emotions into birds just cannot seep.
A love I feel as at your eyes I look,
Which now controls each single move I make.
A truth that's not contained in just a book,
Without this truth my life would be a fake.
My love is for eternal rocks beneath
The cold and misty moors covered with heath.

Lloyd McLean (1992)
 

Guess which novel we studied in year ten!

This poem is part of the Horses and Things collection