Categories: Poetry

Memorial Days by Gareth Culshaw

We had come out of the teenage tunnel
seeing new light up ahead.
Our bodies, minds, changing.

Bent forward, elbow tight, feet firm
eyeball solid, as if glass.
Acute or obtuse, angles calculated.

Striking one to nudge another, blast or
tap. Sometimes a shave
to slightly roll for the fish catch pocket.

Numbers added up on the board. It was
a voyage allowing us to view the
table of what lay ahead.

We did our best to work things through
but snooker is a long game, getting easier as
we sail along the years.

Putting our faith in the swing of an arm.

# # #

Gareth is an aspiring writer who hopes one day to achieve something special with the pen. He resides in Wales.

Photo credit: G.Gallant

contact@dimeshowreview.com

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