And then he went

Sitting in the dust motes

Of a slanting window

A purple

Pink

Orange

Setting sun

I can’t help but wonder

How can a person die

On a day so beautiful

As this

But then I recall

That perhaps a soul

Desires an ending just like this

The hush

And quiet of a sinking sun

Three Galahs

A cricket or two

And just at the perfect moment

The frogs chime in

To see him out

That perfect soul

Has left

This crazy roundabout

*header photo thanks to Hamish Weir (Unsplash).

I found this poem which I wrote in 2016 on my notes on the phone. Sometimes if I’m out and a poem comes to me I type it into my phone. Thankfully it keeps them for me and every now and then I find them again.

Update on the magazine – the content is coming together beautifully and I have some truly interesting folk from locals to internationals coming on board. I’m so blooooming excited. I put a count down at the bottom of the blog 😬 it certainly has my brain in overdrive.

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