by Ayisha Mahmood
Cranford Community College, London, 2018
I saw a fly eat a toad,
I overheard the wind whisper softly,
The pen ran out of ink…
I feel the warm beams of daylight,
The flustered flush of a moon-kissed sun,
Thrusting its rays over the young sapling,
Turning to the willow under which the heroic fly conquered the
A lonely ageing oak tree,
With branches intertwined
With willow in an aberrant embrace.
I forlornly await the turn of the season:
For the hydrangeas to bloom,
To cradle, to clasp.
From the tip of the shoots,
To clustered blooms,
Until the fly is devoured by a vengeful toad,
I shall wait.