Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 4)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 4) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~


The sea a grey tenebrous blue,

An expanse of nondescript hue,

Sepia fog restricted our view,

Easing out beyond the bay.


About the boat soft pitter-patter,

Raindrops fell, gently splattered.

Old oak oars splashed and spliced,

Propelling our flotation device.


Silent but for Nightingale’s song,

A quiet lament for one long gone,

Whose bonded heart beats o so strong,

 Whose tender love lives on-and-on.


Wave at our bow, wake at stern,

Sailing onwards, never turned,

Through mist, murk and mystery,

Closer to the heart of he.


With arms straining, hands sore,

Distant from far sandy shore,

Our boat pushed on quickly now,

Deeper into claggy cloud.


“Not far! Not far!” Nightingale sang:

Lifted in spirit as a buoyed-bell rang.

“Quickly, quickly,” she said to me,

“Save my love, set him free.”


When then a smudge of orange hue,

A florescent shade disrupted blue,

A spherical buoy secured by chain,

Topped an iron-strutted frame.


“Yes, yes,” cried the excited Chat,

Now sat on the floating form.

She’d curtailed her whine, secured a line,

Tied our boat to the platform.


Whilst I prepared Nightingale aired

Instructions for my task.

It wouldn’t do being confused,

‘Neath the sea I couldn’t ask.


“Dive, dive,” the songbird said,

“Dive to where the cable’s led.”

“Down, down, plunge straight ahead,”

“Down until you touch sea-bed.”


“There on the floor lies Nevermore.”

“In a box chained and weighted.”

“Loosen rocks, undo locks,”

“And my love is liberated.”


Perhaps now bolder to my shoulder,

She flew and nestled down.

“Safe and sound, soon homeward bound,”

“Soon back on firmer ground.”


A sudden swell tolled the bell,

As if warning of our trespass.

“Hurry, hurry, the tides do scurry,”

“Deep currents move so fast.”


She fluttered feathers then to my hand,

Perched resting on a finger.

“Stay too long you’ll be gone,”

“Neither pause nor linger.”


From my pocket I pulled the key,

Twas tied to thread carefully.

About my wrist I bound it tight,

Within my reach, within my sight.


 Then to the edge of our boat,

One step further onto the float,

Which rolled, tolled, tipped and pitched,

Ditching me in the sea.


~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 3) precedes this post. Part 5 to follow shortly ~