Memories of a Lost Child

Spring shuffles outside teasing ferns
valley scattered with confetti sheep
crisp air cold as a filleting knife
tops speckles high blue cold

a hut squats corrugated iron basking
beneath grey quarry mouth wide
distant pylons fencing my home
as whinberries dream of fruit I will never see.

– Benjamin F Jones
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About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
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2 Responses to Memories of a Lost Child

  1. It sounds wonderful where you are, in a wild way. I once saw some sheep from an aeroplane – they looked more like maggots from high up, rather than your more romantic confetti. I definitely prefer your image of them.

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