Paul Andrew Sneddon

Tag: scotland

Two Crows

Jul 15th, 2026

Photo by Steve Smith on Unsplash

Two crows down by the river.

An old beat up guitar, you know the kind of one that’s travelled with you.
Good company, seen the miles.

Passing it back and forth.
On the river banks.
Here’s one I wrote.
He smiles back at her.
Here’s one I wrote for you.

They’d found something to argue about earlier. They usually did. But they had made peace with it a long time ago.

And she looks at him.
He’s older now.
Skin and bones.
The weight dropping off him.
But she still sees the light in his eyes.

And to him.
She’s older now.
A little worn by the road.
Still bursting with passion.
Like the day they met.

And when it gets dark they light a fire.
Dance to the playlist they made.
Sky open above them.

Two crows.
Together.

Let’s go down to the river.

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon

This story is from my collection “Death”, which is available now on Kindle.
Mission: Don’t Die

Jul 2nd, 2026

Plant my feet and stand up.
Full height.
No apology.

Blood, oxygen, life.
My life.

Keep moving.

Hand across the scar.
It’s part of me.
Like Ayrshire rain or the waves at the shore.

The words.
The work.

One day I’ll be gone,
but not today,
not today.

You’ll have to drag me,
off this fucking planet,
out of this life.
It’s mine.

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Blue Sky

Jun 9th, 2026

Me and her under an endless blue sky.

The clouds racing across it as we turn the radio off and pick our course.

Through the city till the concrete turns to grass.
The miles passing like minutes.

Pick a tune.

One singer. One song.

Your choice, my choice, and then around again.
Laughing like a pair of dafties when we forget the words.

Window down in the Scottish summer, we stop somewhere by the shore.

The water is cold, but we build a fire and eat the food we brought from home.

The forecast says the weather’s changing.

Not yet, I whisper, as we find the little Bluetooth speaker and dance like fools.

The beach deserted, we kiss as the sky grows dark above us.

© Paul Andrew Sneddon
Days

Jun 8th, 2026

Sometimes I think about the days.

I’ve already had more than some, and less than others. Some just ran away from me, whether I let them or not.

The days I remember best are the ones I rose to meet. Making something from nothing.

And I think about the other days. The ones where I was stuck on the couch. Scattered across the floor. The weight on my chest.

And I think about today.

This moment.

And whatever days I’ve got left to come.

I know what I’m going to do with them.

Fine words.

Till the rain falls.

Or sleep doesn’t come.

I look in the mirror.

And I look straight back.

© Paul Andrew Sneddon
Cohen

Jun 3rd, 2026

The seats were rough with a few frayed covers. There were empty bottles all over the floor.
I turned the music up on my phone.

I was out here in the middle of the night. The flat was too big, and the bed empty. The movement helped. The other passengers like ghosts in the windows.

The music played: ‘If It Be Your Will’.

We moved through the night.

The bus slowed to a stop. ‘Everybody Knows’ was playing. We were outside the old cinema, a tree growing out the top.

The driver lit up and had a smoke.

It had been a while since I had one. Since the funeral.

She had made me promise.

The driver climbed back on and the bus moved off.

I closed my eyes.

‘Hallelujah’.

© Paul Andrew Sneddon

Tag: scotland

Two Crows

Mission: Don’t Die

Blue Sky

Days

Cohen