Poetry

The sound of rain

The drizzle sets its lullaby on cobbled streets at dusk – a soft, endless pitter‑patter that curls up in the heart. Each raindrop, a silver note, notes played on iron rails, echoing through the

Christmas music

Jingles at the Hearth In the hush of a December night when the hearth’s glow casts a briar‑twining glow, the strains of a choir rise, soft and bright, and the old carols that all

Potholes

Potholes Beneath the bright‑lit glass of a balmy evening, a silver road betrays its quiet deceiving. A splash‑thick bubble of pothole hides, a careless dent where cars and lorries glide. The

Goldfinches

In the hush of a spring‑morndey hedge A flutter of gold lifts hue from the hedge. With feathers bright as a dawn‑kissed rose, The goldfinch gleams where the seedlings grow. Its beak, a tiny

Boats on the river

On the winding riverbank the dawn unfurls, A silver hush of mist that curls and curls, The river’s breath in quiet blue, And boats that glide, their hulls a subtle hue. A barge, its

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