Poetry

Photo

A single frame, a quiet breath, Caught in silver‑halide light, Where moments linger, soft and still— A photograph, a slice of night. The shutter clicks, the world stands still, Colours blend in muted

Foggy

In the hush of early morning, A silver veil descends, Foggy streets lie mute and dreaming, Where lamplight softly bends. The world becomes a watercolour, Each contour blurred, indistinct, Footsteps whisper on the cobbles, As

Denim

Denim whispers in cotton‑woven seams, A sturdy cloth that bears the street‑wise dreams. From work‑yard looms to city‑side cafés, Its indigo hue fades in sun‑kissed ways. Trousers cut with a straight, honest

Catch

On a quiet river bend, the fisherman waits, His line a silver thread that hums with hope, He watches ripples dance where shadows play, And dreams of silver flashes in the rope.

Howdy

Howdy, mate, the morning’s gold Spills over hills where stories unfold, A tip‑of‑the‑hat to passing folk, A cheery word and friendly joke. We share a cuppa, strong and sweet, Biscuits crumbling beneath our

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