Buxton Drive Poem by Olly Rowland
Buxton Drive
birds of pray passing by the window,
the road passing in and out of valleys,
with a thick fog falling upon us in our metal cocoon
light passing through distant particles in the field of the pennines
as if God left the land raw, untouched and bleeding
this can't end. my best year lay tattered behind me
soon i will be in the clutches of the working world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 1:03:31 PM # 1.0.0.1119
