Poetry

Hover

Hover In the quiet hush of twilight’s sigh, A kestrel lingers, wings outspread, A silver thread of breath held high, Where earth and sky are softly led. Below, the meadow hums

Fuzzy

Fuzzy thoughts drift like cotton wool, Wrapped in a jumper soft as cloud, Edges blur in twilight’s hush, A blanket of warmth, comforting and proud. In the quiet, the world feels gently indistinct, A tender

Award

A gleam upon the shelf, a modest prize, A quiet testament to steady hands, It catches light in muted, humble guise— Not gaudy fanfare, but the quiet stands Of effort woven through the daily

Madly

Madly we chase the sunrise, With hearts that beat like drumming rain, In streets of London's grey, Where thoughts collide like trains. We laugh, we weep, we dance insane, Our laughter rings like

Trail

On the quiet edge of the wood, a narrow trail winds through amber leaves, soft underfoot as the morning mist lingers like a sigh over the ferns. It threads between ancient oaks, their

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