Wings Poem by Robbie Brereton

Old shutters receded into flaking brickwork,
ivy dripped from the window sill,
dribbling down the rich red,
rising only to sink again,
into the warmth of the severed grass.

Coffee granules littered the disjointed table.
A wasp hummed around the honey pot,
Seduced, he slipped and tripped,
absorbed into the leering liquid,
his wings gave a last pleading beat
before he was overcome.

Projectiles launched from a mischievous giggle
soared through the air, until,
interrupted by malicious gravity,
they crash landed into the awaiting flower bed.
With an innocent thud,
they spilled pollen and snapped the neck of a bold lily.

Shrieks shattered the crisp air.

A host of bubbles clambered to the surface
desperate to get out, bursting with life.
Plastic barred the exit
extinguishing the invasive rays that dared
intrude into the murky depths.

Darkness swallowed him.
He flailed and flapped,
gulping in torrents of liquid
that rushed to colonise his
vulnerable lungs.

Silently screaming, the light left his eyes,
as the watery blackness began to state its claim.

But to no avail.
Puncturing the surface, familiar flesh scythed through the water,
resilient to its snares.
Fingers scraped against a collar,
enveloping the limp body,
that now lies upon the lifeless concrete

with wings steadily beating.