Swallow in Flight

It is a delicate dance as I step between memories and thoughts of you, and my words take form. Sometimes, subtle and shy; a ghost prowling the corridors of night. Or perhaps the exultation of a bird on the wing. Summer returns. I am a Swallow in flight, spiralling in the arms of the wind.

Eily Nash ~2020

Find my poetry & fiction on Amazon

Noir Noctes Witch Lit Poetry

Hymn To Her: Love Poetry