Poem: The Swallow
Soaring low over roof slates,
sinking down past the berried hedgerow,
the swallow plummets,
as if to die.
A sudden switch to take-off,
its folded wings spring open,
the speed awesome,
the sky its playground.
The swallow whistles its joyful tune.
Very much alive.
News Categories Creative Writing
2 Comments – Postiwch sylw
Faymondo:)
Rhoddwyd sylw 69 mis yn ôl - 15th September 2010 - 16:15pm
You write really lovely poems, Tom:D Noticing things people just take for granted...:)
Tom_Bevan
Rhoddwyd sylw 68 mis yn ôl - 16th September 2010 - 17:03pm
aw thanks fay, i've always really loved swallows so this came pretty easily to me. Nice to get such lovely feedback :D