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The Fool

written by: Polly Oliver



Today I saw a white feather
And birdsong filled the woods.
After I cried we hugged.
Purple flowers bloomed
from the blood behind my eyelids,
Closed against loss.
I was The Fool
With her sack of valueless goods;
Coloured stones and poems
Wrapped in bright cloth.
Hiking along a path of optimism,
Eyes to the clouds,
Your heart under my boots.
But now it has cracked
And I’m falling through.

Polly Oliver

Polly Oliver

JAN/FEB 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
A mother of two boys, scribbling from the Western coasts of the UK, mainly poetry, but whatever comes out really. Former journalist and PR professional, the first whispers of middle age and declining eyesight made having a real go at 'real writing' a little more urgent. A Cornish native, I made my home in South West Wales so the sound of the sea sighs through my work every now and then. Lover of nature, yoga, boutique coffee shops and occasional (and very dreadful) surfer.
Polly Oliver

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