Dragon’s Breath: An Inheritance of Ash

The valleys of my youth

Are imploding,

Sinking into the jaundiced mountains,

Of a burger chain’s new domain.

Foraging for berries a pastime

Long since past.

Whilst the queue at the drive through

Lingers onwards

Into a future –

We cannot reclaim.

the mountains of my childhood

are burning

as the smoke settles in the valley

and the ash coats the

immaculate suburban lawns

the acres we walked as feral children

are crumbling to charcoal

we spent sweet summers

getting lost in those woods

pointing out perfect moss

bizarre brains balanced by

fresh air and ghost stories

the landscape marred by this inferno

caused by man

as all fires are

The vestiges of a heritage,

Imprinted

On memorial plaques,

And proclaimed,

Loudly

On special occasions.

With a bell.

An Epitaph

To a culture long

Dead

And buried with the bones

Of fallen soldiers

And, the broken children.

Left behind.

To pick up the pieces.

And suffocate on the

Bloody round

Of Dragons breath,

You shot into the

World.

An inheritance

Of

Ash.

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Poetry Collection, ‘Is this all we get?’

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