They said he drowned
puppies in the outside drain.
He was at odds with
the world and angrily frowned
leaving a shade under his
eyes. He was a door you couldn’t
open or dare to knock on.
Stone faced in all weathers
his life was the local
leaning on the bar
like a farmer checking his cattle.
We were just a herd to him
as he looked at us
to find the weak, the lame
so he could sort them out later on.
Gareth lives in North Wales, he loves the outdoors and hopes one day to achieve something special with the pen.
Algebra Of Owls 