MOUNTAIN  GIRL

By Tony Frost

(to Riju from Nepal, worked at SPAR, St Leonards-on-Sea)

You bid me write a poem for you

But who can conjure words with grace,

Gaze on a stranger and discern

What passions burn within the face?

 

Have I the artist’s eye to see

The shadow that hides behind the veil

And with my sable brush disclose

The soul that struggles to prevail?

 

I see your dark impassive eyes

From far-off lands and snow-clad slopes.

Only my intuition tells

Of half-glimpsed sorrows, cherished hopes.

 

Sometimes, not often, I can see

That on your brow a furrow lies

Until the sunburst of your smile

Breaks through grey Himalayan skies.

 

Who knows what trials or nomad dreams

Led you to tread our English shores

And brought your mountain wisdom here

To breeze through drab suburban doors?

 

See also THE STAG

Also in: Poetry

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