The Telephone Box of Lost Words – by Gareth Culshaw

 

The box we used to go to
has been taken away by a van.
Those glass walls so the world
could see in but not the words

you spoke. We went when
you needed to talk to Joan
or Rob, Gran or someone I
couldn’t reach to hear.

Your words tumbled down
the line. In rain I stood with you,
breathing in the stale cigarette ash.
In sun I pondered outside.

Every Friday you carried yourself
there, it became more important
as you aged. I didn’t know the words
back then, but saw the syllables in your eyes.

 

 

 

Gareth lives in Wales. He has his first collection by futurecycle in 2018.

5 thoughts on “The Telephone Box of Lost Words – by Gareth Culshaw

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s