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sandra wyllie
Poems
Nov 2021
Even the Sun
is filled with holes
and looks like Swiss cheese
on buttered rolls
Even the moon
is planted with pocks
that stack up like
building blocks
Even the air
is blown with dust
billowing through the trees
with acrid gust
Even the flowers
are torn
all thatβs left
are the leaves and
steely thorns
Even the windows
are painted grey
and stick to the frames
as flattened clay
Written by
sandra wyllie
56/F
(56/F)
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127
Ledge
and
Sean Fitzpatrick
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