Poetry

Speck

A tiny speck upon the pane, A wandering dust in morning's light, It drifts like hope, a quiet strain, That catches colour, soft and bright. In silent rooms it finds its place, A

Shaft

A narrow shaft of dawn slips through the blinds, A silken thread that pulls the night apart. It climbs the stone‑worn stair, a quiet wind, And paints the hallway with a trembling heart.

Swoon

Swoon In the hush of twilight’s amber sigh, A breath of lavender drifts close, Heartbeats flutter like moth‑wings shy, And time itself seems to lose its woes. A glance, a whisper, a fleeting

Video

A flicker on the screen, a silent thread, Where moving pictures breathe in frames of light, Each pixel’s pulse a whisper, softly said— A story caught, a moment held in sight. From

Enact

On the hush of dawn the bill is laid, Its words like ink‑stained footsteps on the floor, Each clause a promise that the council’s made, To turn the parchment into living law.

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