Karol 25215

.

I met a man in Marrakech from Manchester.

He was Polish.

He told me how the red-legged storks that reeled high above the Medina walls

Nested in his home town in Poland,

Migrating to spend their winters in Morocco.

 .

There was a certain poetry to his tale I felt

That made me smile.

.

I told him how the delicate Painted Lady Butterfly

Flew from Northern Africa and Spain

To southern England every year

To breed and to die.

memories of marrakech, earth pigments and gold powder paint on canvas © p ward 2015memories of marrakech, earth pigments and gold powder paint on canvas © p ward 2015

© p ward 2015

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