An Encounter

Poetry of Life

I always went to the edge of the woods when I needed to be alone. On the far side, before it dropped down to the railway line, there was a low dry-stone wall, crumbling away, that made the perfect seat. It was incredibly peaceful; you could hear yourself think, work things out in your head. Once an hour, there was a roar of the high-speed train from the city, like a round of applause.