The Present


Thank you for the present, it’s beautiful.
I’ve kept it in my room all these years.

Everyday I look at it and think of you.
That silly green spiky thing, just like us.

I heard you died on June 8th.
I opened my curtains. Birds were feeding in the garden.
Parrots. They were so noisy and funny.




About sophiewellstood

Writer of long and short stories, poems and songs. Some of my fiction is traditionally published and in bookshops. I've put some daft poems for younger people / lapsed adults here, as well as some proper swearing, which I enjoy doing a lot.
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