Poetry

Riper

Riper than the morning dew on autumn’s hedge, The pear swells soft, its skin a blush of rose— Each curve a promise, each sigh a pledge That sweetness waits where patient amber glows.

Sweat

In the hush of dawn, beads of sweat glisten like dew, Each drop a quiet testament to effort’s hue. They trace the map of labour upon sun‑kissed skin, A salty chorus singing where

Ninth

Upon the ninth day of September's sigh, The leaves turn amber, a quiet rustle, As the school bell rings its familiar chime, Children in neat blazers tread the cobbled mile. In music's

Scold

Scolded whispers drift like winter rain, Across the kitchen tiles, a stern refrain; Mum’s voice, a firm and fluttering broom, Sweeps away the crumbs of careless gloom. Yet in the echo, love’s soft tide

Flirt

A shy smile flicks across the café, A teasing glance, a playful sway— You lean in close, your voice a low hum, Like summer rain on cobblestones, soft and glum. Your words

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