by Gareth Culshaw
Magnolia ran around, up and down. An emptiness existed
like in an empty box. A short stay, a fine-tuning on
the journey of date. I moved in with not a thought of the
future. I never felt I lived there. I just sat amongst the wardrobes
and other pass me downs that people keep, tend to forget. An echo
gathered at the end of my voice. But then things changed.
I gathered my thoughts, set out a plan, carried on my journey.
Now I have a compost area, marvel at the way things decompose.
PHOTO: Magnolia tree, Wales.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Gareth Culshaw lives in Wales. He has been published in various places and hopes one day to achieve something special with the pen.