Uncle Ronnie cut the last stones. Alone on the rock, the last mason, He put a year under his chisel Until the work was done.
Ailsa Craig is silent now Even the lighthouse is automatic. But, on a rink somewhere, an edge On a stone, one of Ronnie's strokes Slides across the ice, a memory.
Uncle Ronnie cut the last stones.
ReplyDeleteAlone on the rock, the last mason,
He put a year under his chisel
Until the work was done.
Ailsa Craig is silent now
Even the lighthouse is automatic.
But, on a rink somewhere, an edge
On a stone, one of Ronnie's strokes
Slides across the ice, a memory.
Yes, things move on, only the memory remains...
ReplyDelete