Poetry

Cubit

The cubit, old as desert sand, A forearm’s span from elbow to hand, In temples raised and markets bustling, It measured stone, it measured hustling. Through Babylon’s bright ziggurat towers, Through Egypt’s awe‑inspiring

Begun

Begun In the hush before dawn, the sky’s pale blush has just begun – a shy, amber sigh that stretches over the rooftops, painting the chimneys with liquid gold. A lorry rumbles down

Cycle

The Cycle Turning round the year’s great wheel, Spring unfurls its tender green, Summer sings in golden heat, Autumn sighs, a copper sheen, Winter draws a quiet veil, And the cycle starts again. On two

Elfin

Elfin In the hush of moon‑kissed glades, where fern‑fronds sigh and wild thyme spreads, there flits a silhouette of grace— elfin, lithe, with laughter’s trace. Her eyes are dew‑kissed amber pools, reflecting

Alley

Alleyways at Dusk In the hush of twilight’s sigh, the alley wakes, A narrow vein of stone and shadowed slate, Where brick walls whisper stories that they make, And lanterns flicker, soft as a

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