I saw a homeless man huddled in his blanket on a bench in York. There was a light snow falling as the evening grew and the sound of church bells was all I heard. I wondered about his story.
The soft silence of the snowfall enveloped him
A letter unwritten and never to be read
Thoughts muted by long-ago heartbreaks
the snow gently smothering, hiding
the sharp edges of pain embraced
Slowly drifting flakes
like gauze on a scarred wound
no longer burning
not healed but aching beneath
Embers muffled by time
A dreamer’s heart still slowly beating
As the soft silence slowly swallowed
Sounds and colours washing away
Until somehow,
the pure peal of a single bell
floated through the thickening snow
and hope flickered,
called yet again
stirred by the echo
of music in the night
Some faint hint of
Love in the darkness