Given that I suffer from vertigo, these are probably not the gardens for me to enjoy. Leaning over the parapet to take this snap was enough. St Michael’s Mount is near Marazion in Cornwall, England.
A sirens sounds for the daily dance,
a game that is carelessly played.
In covert signs and coded words,
Liaisons are sought, alliances made.
But those who don’t hear, or don’t know the rules,
are lost in this masquerade.
By day they are silent, in the evening alone,
weaving dreams that may never see light.
Mouthing the words of songs they have learned,
while dancing alone, hidden from sight.
Shrouded with empathy, dusted with love,
Trapped in their room, alone at night.