The halfways
In the halfways
paths of men and angels intertwine.
Where space is not space, and time not quite time,
we map our lives.
A glance of light in a wood that is not light,
a shadow in darkness that is not shade,
a colour, a chill, an unaccounted smile,
a random thought, in these we meet.
Walking the halfways, our hands are held
our links once made are always fast.
© Paul McCombie 2005-6