Tanka – Page 2 – Sarah Potter Writes

#Tanka 48 — Self-portrait (01)

Shadows, lines, no lies,
her age acknowledged full well;
she is where she is.
What of the child within:
that spark of rebellion?

Snail in lockdown
surveys its altered kingdom
~less consumables~
Where have those posh flowers gone?
Are the gardeners on strike?

Ever in motion,
faceless, they come and they go,
clutching their mobiles,
the port a grey entity
where dreams begin and dreams end.

At tidemill ruins
seagrass whooshes; ghosts whisper
by the salt-scragged tree.
Always a lone crow perched there,
his caws not quite of this world.