Poetry

Endow

Endowed with quiet grace, she walks the lane, A gift bestowed by dawn’s soft, amber gleam— No gaudy fanfare, but a steady strain That hums beneath the chestnut’s dreaming stream. The village

Shaky

On the edge of a trembling tide, a shaky breath slips through the night— leaves quiver like hesitant thoughts, and shadows waver in pale moonlight. A hand that falters on old railings, a

Uvula

A tiny pendant in the throat’s soft keep, The uvula dangles, a shy, pink bead, Guarding the gateway where breaths and words sweep, A vigilant sentior where food and air are fed.

Inner

Inner In the quiet chambers of the mind, Where thoughts unwind like soft-spun thread, A lantern flickers, gentle, kind— Its glow the secret places fed. Here feelings nest, both fierce and

Easel

On a quiet studio floor, the easel stands— a humble wooden frame, steady and grand. It cradles the canvas, a patient host, holding each brushstroke, each whispered ghost. From dawn’s soft light

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