Slate

Damp moss grouts the bed Lonely slate overhead A snap of twigs underfoot Flowers wither where you lay Beating wings chime the day A sigh of grief for your loss Cold tears sign the cost

Shiver

If ever there was a season for magic it is autumn. Copper leaves shiver to ground; nature composing a last encore of golden hues before all is seemingly lost to the barren embrace of winter. Though even in the hallowed bowels of decay, shallow breath whispers hope. I used to walk in the closing months... Continue Reading →

Driftwood

Sleep is one of the few companions Aaron Hart has left and even its choice visits have become less frequent.  Shadowed by a disquiet and haunted by the loved ones he has committed to earth, his limbs twitch fitfully in slumber, insulated by a makeshift blanket of words.  Yet when a shrill cry pierces his... Continue Reading →

These Boots Were Made For Walking

Fear not, I don’t possess the derriere to squeeze into Daisey Dukes’ shorts and pay homage to Jessica Simpson’s remake of the old Willy Nelson song – plus it’d be a bit hypocritical to lather up someone else’s car when I can’t be bothered to wash my own.  If God wants it clean it’ll rain.... Continue Reading →

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

Fear not, I’m not a disgraced medical professional’s widow on the warpath.  For one, the last time I went blonde I resembled a mangy rescued mongrel after having to cut out chunks of matted hair with the kitchen scissors, and secondly, my sanity can barely withstand over an hour at a soft play centre with... Continue Reading →

Mummy Guilt

I suppose the correct universal term is ‘parent guilt’ but stuff the PC brigade, I’m going to be gender specific and divulge my understanding of the blasted mummy guilt. I do concede it is an imposed assumption of wrongdoing that afflicts both parties once you take ownership of a mini-person. The truth is, my first... Continue Reading →

Lullaby

Taut skin and heartstrings You left me Hope begins to pass with each impression of the looking glass Time contracts as do I Close your eyes, stay awhile Hush my babies Eternal lullaby

Death And Taxes

The phrase death and taxes doesn’t sit right with me; I’ve never once been on the phone to Tax Credits, usually multitasking the pots with putting a wash on while on hold for 20+ minutes, the phone cradled between my shoulder and ear, and some scythe wielding deity of the underworld has materialised in my... Continue Reading →

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: