Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash
Under a full moon,
The cries of curlews
Echo in her brain,
Reminding her - loss.
In her dream that night
She was no longer
A mother, her son
Never existed, he was
But a dream.
The mermaids sang,
But not to her,
She was used to that,
Being an island.
She was the black sheep
After all, different
But the same.
She woke with a start,
Realised all of her
Dreams were true.
However, here as
Always, her son did
Exist, even though
He does not now.
About the Creator
Emma Datson
I am 40ish, medically interesting, Australian poet, who is finally using her voice. My superpower is my vocabulary. Dive in and read an eclectic mix of poetry and creative non-fiction, full of love, grief and hope. Light, love
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.