Poem -
CURLEW 1955
The plaintive cry of the curlew
is sadly, heard no more
on the bleak and windswept moorland
I wandered as a child long ago.
But now, as I walk the heathered upland
in my mind’s ear I hear it calling,
like a ghostly spirit whistling
on the wind of sixty, lost forever years.
Like 1 Pin it 0
Support CosmoFunnel.com
You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.
