My poem Last Breath was published in The Red Poets Magazine 19th addition.
Photo taken on Saturday July 4th Bargoed Mountain and very old dry stone wall
He stands in the Country park that was once his industry past.
The scars of blue that are stretched with age are mapped on his hands,
his eyes strain to see someone waving in the distance; it is his dog-walking friend.
He sees the clear brown river snaking its way, the salmon have returned,
he watches a heron waiting for its catch.
Dragonflies are shadow- dancing on the river, dippers flit their black and white wings.
He surveys the new bypass with cars flashing by.
He holds onto the dry- stone wall that has been recently built
and remembers this type of wall from his father’s farming days,
when he ran barefoot through cornfields, life then was simple and carefree.
He coughs, his handkerchief drops on to the path so he wipes his mouth in his sleeve,
he struggles to breathe, his lust for life left him long ago.
He holds on and he thinks he can hear is wife calling him,
he stumbles as he feels her breath.
His senses are heightened as he falls into her open arms.
The dog-walker rushes to his friends’s side as he approaches,
he witness his last breath and watches as he dies