Lost Swallows


They are lost
on the table of cut grass,
scattering like snooker balls
on a break off.

The hedges keep them
hemmed in. They are flies
in a kitchen, nightmares
in a brain.

I want to show them
the exit gate. Give freedom
to their wings.

Allow each one to turn
into a dream…

By Gareth Culshaw


Gareth lives in North Wales. He loves the outdoors especially Snowdonia. He is published in various magazines across the U.K. Visit his website here.

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