One Night I Slept On Land That Isn’t There

by MARK TOTTERDELL

One night I slept on land that isn’t there,
the cliff now tumbled to the beach below.
So much that once was firm has turned to air.

I was so cocksure then, so free from care,
I had no better place to sleep, and so
one night I slept on land that isn’t there.

The music carried on, sweet, wild and rare.
I heard it float up from the town’s bright glow.
So much that once was firm has turned to air.

The warm turf cushioned me, the stars were fair.
Why should it matter now that you should know
one night I slept on land that isn’t there?

And when the early sun caressed my hair,
I knew for certain which way I should go.
So much that once was firm has turned to air.

My maps are ashes now, so who knows where
the paths went? I’m impelled to tell you, though,
one night I slept on land that isn’t there,
so much that once was firm has turned to air.


‘One Night I Slept On Land That Isn’t There’ by Mark Totterdell was commended in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (July 2020) judged by Terry Jones.


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