Poetry

Break

When the clock strikes eight and the kettle sighs, Morning’s first light spills over the kitchen tiles— A soft, hesitant crack of porcelain against the counter, A fragile fracture that sings of quiet

Triad

Triad Three notes converge in quiet harmony, A chord that sings of balance, whole and true: Root, third, and fifth—each voice a loyalty, Together forming hues both rich and new. Like

Epoch

Epoch In the slow turning of stone and sea, An epoch sighs beneath the weight of time, Where ancient rocks remember glaciers' breath, And fossils whisper in the limestone’s rhyme. Each layer a

Usher

In the hushed half‑light of the theatre’s nave, An usher glides, a quiet steward of the night, His coat a shade of deep‑emerald, his steps suave, He welcomes souls with patient, gentle light.

Prove

In quiet labs the scholars sit, With chalk‑dust thoughts they slowly knit, Each hypothesis a whispered plea, To prove the truth that eyes can’t see. Yet love, a theorem none can chart, Needs

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