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Strength for Today

She hurled her bone china cup

at the painting on the wall,

glass shattered, she screamed.

Black coffee dripped down

white washed stone. 

Sobbing, she folded herself 

into the Welsh rocking chair,

to and fro she rocked,

to and fro until

the light faded and 

sheep were silent in the fields

outside her cottage window.

All night she dreamed,

replayed his leaving,

her discovery, his betrayal, 

his selfish ultimatum – 

He said it was her decision

whether he should leave,

but she couldn’t accept

his new found desire,

the one who he boasted had

“brought me back to life”.

So, she stayed alone.

Now the dawn was glowing

through the curtains,

the sheep were bleating,

cockerels crowing,

she stirred, staggered

to the door, pulled on

her warmest coat

and followed the farm dog

down the lane towards the

ramshackle shelter

which he shared with 

orphaned lambs and

his two masters.

As she passed, they tipped their caps

and grunted, respectfully.

Past the poet’s house, the historian,

the new hippy family, 

whose chimney was already smoking.

As she walked, she gained strength,

felt a sense of belonging

to this strange community. 

Fine rain fell on her face

she looked up to see

a rainbow, stretching

from the mountains

across the valley,

framing her, 

a fleck of paint, 

in the vast landscape.

She reached the end 

of the lane where 

people park to picnic

and swim in the river,

sat down on the 

damp pebbles,

staring into water

murky and deep,


her next step.  

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