Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
In The Quietude Of A Bluebells Mound
In and out the dappled dew wet ferns
My grey ghostly spirit glides
In and out these mottled skies
Beneath those blue bristle furs
Where a fox cub has lain aground...
Here shall my heart be found...
Here shall my spirits soul, resound...
Here in the quietude of a bluebells, mound.
Comments about this poem (In The Quietude Of A Bluebells Mound by Mark Heathcote )
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