Poetry

Cinch

A soft leather band that hugs the horse’s side, Holding the saddle firm where reins and hope collide, It tightens with a gentle pull, a quiet grip, Turning restless nerves to steady, sure‑footed

Liver

In the quiet hush beneath the ribs, A dark‑red organ hums its steady song— The liver, Britain’s stoic chemist, Filters life’s broth with patient, tireless grace. It holds the amber tide of

Stead

In the quiet field where hedges sigh, My stead lies firm beneath the sky. Not where the restless lorries roar, But where the gate has creaked before. Here footprints fade in softened

Voice

In the hush of dawn, a voice awakes, Soft as mist that drifts across the lake, It hums through reeds, a gentle sigh, A lullaby that paints the sky. It carries words

Lilac

In the quiet corner of an English garden, Lilac buds unfurl their soft‑purple sighs, Their fragrant tresses draping over stone, A perfume that drifts on evening breezes. Each cluster hangs like a

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