Poetry

Assay

The Assay In every assay, a question lies— Not just in test tube or in tray, But in the spark when effort tries To turn the grey into daylight. The chemist weighs with

Whole

In the hush of sunrise, the world feels whole, A tapestry woven of sky, stone, and soul. Each breath draws the tide back to the shore, Where fragments of night and day meet

Haunt

In the mist‑draped lane where the old stone walls sigh, A whisper of footsteps lingers—soft, yet insistent— A shade that refuses to part, a memory that will not fade, Haunting the quiet cobbles

Brand

Upon the shelf, a name takes hold, A whispered promise, bright and bold. It is not merely mark or sign, But stories spun in cotton twine. From factory floor to city street, It walks in

Curve

On the quiet curve of the river, the water sighs, a silver ribbon, soft as a lorry’s tyre on wet pavement, turning the world gently round. A lover’s smile arches like a bridge, each glance

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