Philip Carter
___________________________________________________________________
They dragged her through the dark woods,
Tied her grey braids to the broken tree
There she fell,
And slept.
.
The crashing seas
Below her
Sang her name.
.
We lay desolate,
Lost.
.
In our warm beds.
It was then that
We heard
The black headed raven speak.
___________________________________________________________________
Philip Carter is originally from the West Country but now living in East Anglia. He is a craftsman, illustrator, artist, gardener, and allotmenteer. He likes to watch clouds and drink coffee.
Beyond the Underground 