Poetry

Child

In the hush of morning light, A small hand finds a mother's palm, Soft giggles echo like a chime, Their eyes reflect the sky's bright calm. Tiny feet patter on the wooden

Daisy

In the meadow’s quiet hush, White‑petalled daisies bow, Their yellow hearts a gentle blush, Against the summer’s brow. They nod beneath a soft, blue sky, Where larks ascend and sigh, Each simple bloom a

Evoke

Evoke the hush of dawn, when mist drapes the hills in silver lace, and the first light tiptoes over the meadow, whispering secrets to the sleeping grass. Evoke the scent of rain

Table

Upon the oak, a quiet stage, Where cups of tea and biscuits engage, The grain recalls each whispered tale, A steadfast centre where hearts prevail. In morning light, the wood does gleam, A

Funny

A chuckle bubbles in the tea‑time air, A giggle twirls like a scone on a plate. We trade our worries for a daft affair, Where puns are buttered spreads we can’t abate.

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