Falling, Slowly

I’m known to walk through parks on my own
to imagine worlds I’ll never see –
where stars are a light shining through punctures
in the black sky, where a child’s laughter is the song of life,
or where street lights are beacons to lone souls.
Where humans fly with seagulls from shore to shore,
or where pain is an alien word.
Where we’re walking down the street forever,
just like that.

There’s half an empty bottle of sorrow
and leavings of a life unlived
waiting for me at home, should I find my way back.

Take this whisper that promises we’ve still got time,
hold your hands up high and help me dance.
Because I’m known to walk through parks all by myself
wondering what it would be like to feel
your head on my shoulder, at the other end of
the world.


Ynysangharad War Memorial Park

2 thoughts on “Falling, Slowly”

  1. Hum, also hun et lo 10 mol gelies an ech wees nach emmer net waat ech dozou soe soll, well et sou schéin as. Ech wees ‘schéin’ kléngt esou banal, an daat as och vill ze banal gesot fir sou e wonnerbart Schreiwen :)

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