When I first knew you I had to write.
Only through pen and paper could I express what was on my heart.
To pour out my heart.
But as time passed I thought no-one wanted to hear.
I saw my notebook and pen on the desk,
took them and shut them in the drawer.
The motorbike climbs the track road,
its headlight piercing the gathering gloom of approaching evening.
Winding its way through the long forgotten ramparts
of this hill fort it finds its way to the top.
A new lesson learnt.
A new realisation dawned.
This I see when I come back to you.