Poetry

Thief

In the hush of midnight lanes, he slips, A shadow draped in woolen cuff, Silent as the fog that drifts Over cobblestones worn rough. His eyes, a gleam of quiet guile, Scan the

Carat

In the hush of the jeweller’s bench, a single carat holds its breath— a speck of light, a measured weight, where purity is counted in twenty‑four. Twenty‑four carats gleam with untarnished fire, each

Snafu

In the office hum, a lorry‑load of papers spills like tea over a miss‑spelled memo, the printer sighs, its ink a murky grey, while the tea‑break biscuits crumble into chaos. We tidy

Leafy

In the hush of morning, leaves unfurl their jade, A canopy of verdant whispers overhead, Sunlight filters through the emerald canopy, Painting the earth in dappled gold and shade. The rustle sings

Smash

Smash Upon the cliff‑edge where the Atlantic sighs, A grey‑green wall of water rises high, Then, with a roar that splits the restless skies, It hurls itself – a sudden, thunderous sigh. The

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