Mark O'SullivanMay 29, 20201 min readHob Hey Wood: a poem by Jayne BrysonA wooded glen,A secret way between the hedges.Once there, in the gentle embrace of the hollow,Beneath the soft shelter of the trees,The living of lives;The passing of time;The relentless knowing, and being, and doing,Were no more.The Time WarpWe named it,As we followed the fairy footpaths.We thought it magic then,This pause in time.I know, now, that –In a way –It was.
A wooded glen,A secret way between the hedges.Once there, in the gentle embrace of the hollow,Beneath the soft shelter of the trees,The living of lives;The passing of time;The relentless knowing, and being, and doing,Were no more.The Time WarpWe named it,As we followed the fairy footpaths.We thought it magic then,This pause in time.I know, now, that –In a way –It was.
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