28 April 2007

Tiny D-Day

The morning air was thick with dandelion seeds,
slung underneath their feathery white parachutes,
drifting gently in the breeze,
like a thousand paratroopers
dropping behind enemy lines.

I write poetry like fire reads the newspaper.


Blogger Fiona said...

That's strangely moving, Hughes. Well done :-)

11:33 am  
Blogger Hughes. said...

'ello Fiona, how's life in the Vegas of the North (Wales)?

8:56 pm  
Blogger Fiona said...

Vegas? Pontins more like :-)

3:22 pm  

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