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Conor Letham
Poems
Oct 2012
Late Friends
In the garden out back
I used to gather up leaves,
looking like burnt flames
crisping up on my lawn.
The sun had stained them
from springtime children
to tarnished stars, waiting
on the ground for my dance.
They would blush for me
and crackle in delight
as I pirouetted around
then eagerly pounced,
piling up a nest so then
as the winter wind came,
roughly rubbing my cheek,
I'd sit there with sandwiches.
Written by
Conor Letham
West Midlands, UK
(West Midlands, UK)
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