Poetry
Fewer
Fewer footsteps echo down the lane, Fewer clouds linger in the grey‑tinged sky, Fewer words are whispered in the rain, Fewer hearts beat beneath the same old sigh. Yet in the quiet
Read more →Shall
Shall we wander where the mist clings low, through lanes of hawthorn where the blackbirds sing? Shall we trace the river’s silver glow, and let the dawn’s soft light our spirits bring?
Read more →Purge
Purge In the cold light of morning, the house sighs— rooms stripped of the clutter that clung like old regret. Each drawer opened, a silent confession, papers yellowed, photographs faded, the weight of
Read more →Their
Their hands, once dusted with summer’s earth, Now trace the quiet edges of memory’s hearth, Where laughter lingers in the amber light Of tea‑stained mugs and soft, forgiving night. Their voices, a
Read more →Movie
In the hush of the evening, the lights grow low, A silver screen awakes with stories to bestow. Popcorn crunches softly, the audience draws near, Waiting for the tale that will soon appear.
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