Beyond that hill…

Battered by life, yet courageous still, he struggled with each step as he climbed up that hill. He lived all alone, he was now eighty-one, for his beloved wife Alice had long since passed on. And the shop in the village is at the top of the hill, he walked up there slowly on odd weekdays still.

He promised his Alice that he’d never give in, though it was hard he took it on the chin. And to her memory he climbed up the hill every week, not saying much, he’d no breath left to speak. But there was another good reason why he went up like that, the cemetery’s up there and he went for a chat. With his Alice, who he loved for the whole of his life, who made him so happy while she was his wife.

He carried his bag with a flask filled with tea, and a small pack of biscuits which he ate about three. Together they chose a nice spot near a tree, where a bench had been placed by the council you see. He sat down and chatted to his Alice with a smile, and then listened as she answered him after a while. He knew that some people must have thought he was daft, he told this to Alice and together they laughed.

After a while he gathered his things and then said his goodbyes as he now turned to leave. There was always a teardrop that fell from his face that he wiped away slowly on the edge of his sleeve.

He carried on like this for so many years, until finally he too turned to dust, but the message he left with his Alice for us, is we should love for ever, we just really must.

©Joe Wilson – Beyond that hill…2016

Paradise reframed…

Down long dark paths e’er wanders he in search of peace from woe. He travels on with troubled brow, his features etched with worry so. Solutions none can this man find, to ease his troubled soul, yet stills strides he down darkened paths, his searching now beyond control. And now within his mind he’s lost, he knows not where to turn. Those darkened paths are in his head, his mind’s in Hell, he’s sure he’ll burn.

But peace when finally it came, was not from thoughts inside, but when he faced the truth in death, his God was by his side. With surety he never felt, in life he’d been uncertain, beyond the worrying of man, was glory past that curtain.

©Joe Wilson – Paradise reframed…2016
(with apologies to John Milton 1608 – 1674)