by David Walshe
The shriek of a woman
pierces the crash
of the breakers.
Walking close to its spot,
she has seen
‘The White Horse.’
Prayers are made
for sailors…
and also for loot.
At daybreak,
the wreckers hunt
through the horse’s gift.
A hairy trunk is salvaged.
First bringing gold,
then misfortune, untold.
The veiled lady,
in a black satin dress,
keeps appearing,
causing unrest.
Her tears and pleading
for her papers,
pierce through the crash
of the breakers.
David Walshe from Southport, UK, is currently working on a small collection of poems inspired by his passion for local history. Previous work has been published by Black Bough Poetry, The Broken Spine, The Adriatic Mag, and Victorian Dollhouse. On Twitter @DJWalshe.
