Author: Ben Dwyer

Life is made of days Though they all must pass away Make memories stay

Tarmac rivers flow With noisy choking splutter Buried in culverts

Rising from the swamp Ancient hawthorn still clings on Waiting for no one

Between joyous shrieks Frogs leap across busy creeks Silence slowly sleeps

With the marshes drained And every mystery explained Where does magic lay?

A fork in the road Though petals cover the path We simply follow

Inquisitive spy Waiting for bugs to surprise Before the mole tries

Wash me clear and clean In rising fresh water streams You fill up my dreams

Nettles bathed in red Broken briar between our bed Hawthorn hardened head

I launch parachutes Ant sized clouds telling stories Of fresh adventure

Knee high shoots graze our Low slung bellies as we browse Spring’s sweetest offerings

You can’t catch sunlight Music lives but a moment Will my words endure?