Curlews
written by: Polly Oliver
“Stop talking,” you said by the estuary’s edge.
You kissed me and told me to close my eyes.
“Let the sun warm your face, feel my hand on your waist,
The marsh birds are calling the air alive.”
And though I knew that forever could never be,
In that singing place, I touched eternity.
JAN/FEB 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Writing in the spaces between the hustle and noise. Poems published here and there, but nothing beats a poem brought to life in a live reading. Ex broadcast journalist (are we ever truly ex?), communications pro, mum, coast dweller.
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