Muse |
Muse |
Flying in a reflected sky Engulfed with cotton clouds. The whir of the engine Like a soft hum of a sustained note. Snakes lie on the sand, Washed, in their way, By the tide. Landing again, and surrounded By flowers and buds on bushes, That avenue the straight road On the way to Cardiff. Through the Grand Gates of Toll. To step on the Welsh ground; Earth; continue to the city. Passing fields of grass, Shining in the sun. Old bark; gnarled, on a Thunder Tree Standing tall, hosting mistletoe. Urban, out-skirt houses Display their best garments, Hanging on lines suspended. Sectional fields come in Waves with the occasional flat. Manes of horses flare, Billowed by that passing of us. Empty bottles thrown and hidden Beneath twigs and dust. Parallel. A conveyor belt For cars and us; On the way to Cardiff. Widen lines to accommodate, Travellers on the road. The Eiffel Tower of a network Supporter amidst barren shrubbery, Keeping the conversations going. Home to shops and cars And building standing Grandioso, lining the streets, On the way to Cardiff? We are here. Photo by Mike Erskine on Unsplash Originally written in 2012, age 16
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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