Alone, I left you
to the quietude of seagulls.
It was a windy afternoon
when I went,
your small arms
lifted towards me,
trembling like
shutters,
hinges of rust.
to the quietude of seagulls.
It was a windy afternoon
when I went,
your small arms
lifted towards me,
trembling like
shutters,
hinges of rust.
1 comment:
Your words are striking. They hit me like stones. You have this way of making me shudder, of moving me.
I try to elude some of those stones, but the images they create in my mind's eye are so strong.
You have a gift to convey words the image and meaning you exactly want them to say. I like it very much. The sordid and the light.
Be careful, Clare, I believe you're well on your way to becoming a serious writer and poet!
Thank you for writing.
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