writer, book reviewer, daydreamer
The grass is grey, crisp bones poking through.
Buttercups, they are, dandelion clocks
chiming the century after the forests fell.
The echoes fertilise their corms, pushing to flower
at every survivor who stumbles across
holding up their torn petal-banners to give their voices
to the voiceless. Broken, worn, silenced before
by those who did not live to regret their iron fists, those who
choked on their black nectar as they feasted from golden mugs,
no-one left to mourn.
In the dark, when lights sputter out
From a sudden cut, the gloom holds council
To every sound, making sure each is heard
No matter its stature.
They sidestep the beads
From the torch and natter,
Freedom, freedom
Our potential is realised!
One of my flash fiction pieces is being published in an anthology, which is currently available for pre-order here. If anyone’s interested, there’s 10% off when using the order code: 100V3-97.
Happy reading!
Naturalist and multi-award winning author
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