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Kings Lynn by Neil Flatman

Kings Lynn

In his ninth decade he speaks
at the funeral of a friend. He says
she wore her red hair loose,
had the open features of the fens,
but behind her eyes lay clouds
that could rain a season in a day.
She loved the rise and fall
of skylarks and the snap
of winter-brittle bracken under foot.
She was mercurial, a crescent
reflected on still water, a ripple
he thought would never wane.
He had imagined she would speak
for him.

by Neil Flatman

Editor’s Note: A poem doesn’t have to be complicated for it to resonate with a reader. The imagery carries this poem, but it’s the last two lines that make it truly memorable.

Comments

One response to “Kings Lynn by Neil Flatman”

  1. Risa Denenberg Avatar

    Really fine poem, Neil!

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