Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 3)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 3) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~

~

Soft breeze played, swayed tall trees,

Splayed high branches, rattled leaves.

Upon a path ‘neath broad canopies,

I wove my way to the sea.

~

Where woodland thinned, where scrub began,

Where grass grew in golden sand,

Here my track trailed away –

Ending in a secluded bay.

~

A rock-strewn cove, craggy cliffs,

Brackish spray, drifting mist.

The day now grizzled, softly drizzled,

Pockmarked the siliceous shore.

~

Upon the strand impressed in sand,

Footprints led to where ahead,

The slip and slide of the tide,

Rumbled, tipped and tumbled.

~

Pausing one moment to contemplate,

 I mused the fate of Nevermore.

Somewhere out-there ‘neath ebb and flow,

Lay his heart upon sea floor.

~

‘Inside a metal box,’ she’d said,

‘Wrought iron, tied and bound.’

‘Weighted-down with heavy stones,’

‘Wherein his heart is found.’

~

“But where amidst deep briny sea?”

“Where indeed might his heart be?”

“Must I search for eternity,”

“To find his grave beneath the waves?”

~

As if on cue a Nightingale flew,

Flew twittering across the sea,

Around-and-around ’til settling down,

Upon the ground next to me.

~

“Far from shore lies Nevermore,”

“Sunk beneath a tolling buoy.”

“Tis tied by thread to the sea-bed -“

“Follow this cable to enable his joy.”

~

I looked to see what I could see,

But only sea stared back at me.

“How to reach this buoyed bell?”

“If you know please do tell.”

~

She smiled as only a Nightingale can,

Fluttered feathers, scratched at sand.

Beneath her claw a rope I saw:

Frayed, knotted and rotted.

~

The lamenting Chat flapped and sat,

Sat high upon my shoulder.

“Within your reach across the beach,”

“Hides a boat behind a boulder.”

~

Given new hope I lifted the rope,

Pulled it free of wet sand,

Hand-over-hand I coiled the line, ’til

Finding a boat on dry land.

~

‘Twas secreted away ‘neath tarpaulin,

Part-buried by tumbled stone.

It was intact, in-fact complete,

Dusty, lying prone.

~

Hauling line I set her free,

Dragged the boat to the sea,

Then casting off I made my way,

Rowing out into the bay.

~

Upon the bow sat Nightingale,

Guiding me on through the pale:

A veil of fog, a misted wall,

And onwards towards a tolling bell.

~*~

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 2) precedes this post. Part 4 to follow shortly ~ 

~*~