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Life as a Poem

Photo copyright Sandra Crook

Rustling leaves tell of your presence:
Red admirals glides in your arms.
Trees put on their top hats,
Foxgloves spout.

Cabbage whites flutter, children play.
A bronze beetle scurries as a football lands.
Bumble bees skims a green sea
Artic poppies kiss like washing on a line.

Children playing under summer heat.
Cotton wool and Spindrift clouds.
Silver beeches sway like Niagara Falls.
Sparrows call, Hoverflies hover.

Nestling finches work:
In the shadows a cat glares.
A walker passes like wood smoke.
Lambs bleat with hunger.

A Robin perched:
Spouting oaks: Offering hope.
Friends no longer present:
That’s life.

Switching on the camera

In memory of Irene’s mother Ruth, who has quietly left this world

This Post Has 26 Comments
    1. Thank you Jolly, I wrote this poem earlier this summer during lock down, the draft was sitting in my computer. The poem seemed like a fitting tribute to my mother in law, who died a few days back

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