GHOST

Footsteps splash upon wet, sea washed steps.
These steeped, stone stepped stairs, which widely flare,
Meet readily with feet, through darkening, salt smelling air.

Climbing aloft, with wings and a hook,
That, when connected to back and of each foot,
Betook to flap briskly and pull on up.

Legs pump under the lead,
Of torso, arms and head.
Gliding forwards, effortless.

The wind must be behind!
Not breathing, doing fine.
It’s too easy! Fitness has improved,
Enter a race, win with grace,
At the top of this steep staircase.

A fit dog wouldn’t get his nose in front, at this pace.
Good to feel the light rain.. on my.. face,
It helps... me!.. Breathe?
 

~N.W.

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Website created by Tina Bell and designed by Nigel Wilson
as part of the Sheffield Community Information project