Yard
written by: Henry Bladon
@henrybladon
That last time we sat in the yard
we looked at the quiet sky
while the flowers released their scent
I said how much I loved my favourite tree
and he announced that
he loved the overhead clouds
but he didn’t love me
I thought of a thousand kisses
and all those times I then found hard
to understand.
It was like the moment when
you finally realise that toast is merely burnt bread.
Henry is a writer of all types of fiction based in Somerset in the UK. He has a PhD in creative writing from the University of Birmingham and runs a writing support group for people with mental health issues. His work has been in entropy, 50WordStories, Bloodaxe, The Ekphrastic Review, thedrabble and FridayFlashFiction among other places.
Latest posts by Henry Bladon (see all)
- Pieces of Myself - July 10, 2023
- Yard - May 1, 2022
- Sensorial - June 10, 2021
