Poetry

Pleat

In the quiet drawer of linen, a pleat whispers, folded tight, like a secret kept in cotton, a crease that holds the light. It walks the hem of a skirt, sharp as a

Those

Those shadows that linger behind the kitchen door, Those whispers that rustle through autumn leaves, Those faces we meet on a rainy afternoon, Those moments that stitch themselves into memory’s seam. They

Crimp

Crimp— a gentle fold in the hair, a silver coil of wire, a pressed line upon the page, each bend a whispered prayer. In salons, tongs hiss low, waves rise like tide‑kissed dunes, while engineers with steady

Wince

In the hush of an empty theatre, a sudden note makes the audience wince, a sharp, bright sting that pricks the throat, like a splinter of glass caught in the throat’s seam.

Tangy

A zestful whisper on the tongue, Tangy fruits in summer’s song— Lime’s bright bite, a citrus spark, Lemon’s sharp, a daring mark. It dances like a cheeky dart, A piquant twist that steals

• The Friday Fun British Test
• Dilbert Archives