A poem by local poet and author Chris Sullivan


River Mole in pastel fields

Slow of pace, bereft of time

Canvas free of modern build

Brushes soft the restless soul

A brooding willow’s tousled locks

Nestle by a silent mill

Unbroken taste of time forgot

Suckled by the constant flow



Princely swan, fresh linen white

On tranquil sweep of her estate

Governs all within her sight

As life matures and drifts away


Timid life in skulking reeds

Hidden eyes that watch the world

In shadows go about their deeds

Till muted night consumes the day


C T Sullivan

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