I committed poetry. I apologise.

Not There
by Neil Beynon

Petals fall as rain—
bronzed leaf, surfing the gust’s dance.
Seed soft under foot.

Jack’s spider spins long—
daffodil dreams quicken the dark.
A web grown too wide.

Sky spills light at lost gold—
clouds weep. A dance not begun,
of a boy not there.

***

It falls some way short of what I was going for, as these things so often do, but I felt it should put it somewhere to draw a line under it. Such as it is.

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