Son of York’s First Ghost Walker Wanders the Winding Ways; a Recollection – #3 Tosh Alleyways
The twisting details of the brick-work and the aged woodwork seem to be seen in full detail despite the lack of lighting.
Shiver if you will in these ancient streets and wayfares.
Do not step on the cracks, as they lead down below these old flags to layer upon layer of deathly past.
Impossible mists climb down among the yellow lights to amplify the darkness of the forth-coming archway.
Amalgamation of structure covers centuries and has only one thing in common, amid the various quaintnesses, is its lack of straightness.
Leaning in and over, meanwhile tilting and steadily shifting, erstwhile attempts at formality house the living amongst the dead.
Impassable infrastructure passable easily for spirit – echoes of earlier denizens.
Angled byways call into question any semblance of accessibility leaving behind away from this city all concept of normality.
Ghostly accessibility is superior to the earthly footway.
Watch it visitor, spooky York is wonky.
(a round by Adrian Spendlow)
Just west of here amid the mists
No step aside; a stumbling list
Simply twist here to find
A tear within the veil
Timeless as the instance of awareness
Solid as old stone’s transience
Always within the wanderer’s perspective
Those who are not of your precious now
Who your hope of logic flaunt with firm avow
A promise you will one day know
There you will reside, you hear it said
For you will walk among
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See also my Nordic Prose poems of the Gods and Goddesses series…
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