Swang
Listen to the cadence of the Elders
of freshly felled trees
Torn asunder, branchless
breaks for cover
The village playground
was deserted
No Moon yet
just a swing
swang by a ghost of a child
Evenings our dull forms appear
We thirst
for the white waters
sweet like our childhood
Copyright © Antony Glaser | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment