Poetry

Ivory

Ivory Soft as the morning mist that drapes the lake, A quiet gleam where elephant tusks lie. It holds the memory of sun‑kissed savanna, Of ancient trade routes winding through the dust, Where traders bartered

First

First In the hush before sunrise, a lone footfall meets the dew‑slick pavement, the world tilting on the edge of night – the first breath of day, crisp as fresh‑baked scone. A child’s

Forth

Forth we step upon the dampened pavement, Morning mist clinging to the lorry’s bright bonnet, Each footfall a quiet promise, a soft‑spoken vow To wander onward, where the river bends and the hills

Cluck

In the quiet hush of a morning yard, A speckled hen lifts her feathered head, Her soft cluck rolls over dew‑kissed grass, A humble hymn the waking world has fed. She struts

Repay

In quiet corners of the day, A debt is felt in simple sway— Not coin nor gold, but kindness lent, A whispered thanks, a warm assent. When shadows fall and lights grow

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