From pier-point we walked to the mountain slopes where the slate fell in slag-pile avalanches and the yellow grasses rippled against the breeze.
Your battered trainers barely survived the trip, so you carried them in one hand until the kissing gate, and left them hanging by their fraying laces.
With your footsteps just behind mine we scrambled for purchase, chasing thoughts like stray insects up the pitted pathways we’d walked more times than memory.
One by one they dropped away, pebbles tossed and bouncing, pinging out of sight and hearing until there wasn’t any further to climb.
Below there would be small slate rooftops and white wash houses with chocolate box roses around whorled glass windows, framing shuffling figures pottering from one day to the next.
Winded, panting, face shining and nose pink tipped you took my cheeks between your palms and pulled it close.
‘Just be here with me,’ you asked and for those moments I was. Together in the solitude of our mountain, barefoot and tired and palms stinging from falls and sharp stone.
I was alone with you.
Day Twenty-Seven’s prompt was to use long sentences in a poem. Since this was such an open prompt I decided to incorporate today’s Daily Post Prompt: Solitude.