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"She writes poetry" ©

Fife, Scotland

Someone told another
“She writes poetry”
So I am told
And left it like that

I do …I admit it
Each day I gather impressions
Rather like a spinner
Collects wool from the hedgerow

Random phrases linger
Much like wool
In hawthorn and round barbed wire
Waits in readiness to be crafted

The soft leavings of winter’s coat
From sheep near Crieff
When they coorie in for shelter
In Perthshire cold blast

Such are my words
My testimony to living
Good fair and middling days
The warp and web of me

My own interpretation
The tears of sadness
Laughter love and joy
Rainbow shades

Yes, I write poems
My core compels
And my heart obeys
It is my salvation

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