Footprints

She walked out of the water. The wind whipped the warning flags. Though she did not feel it. The sun…

Hope

Hope, is the rope That hangs down the well Dangling in the darkness Like a cat’s toy It swings, inviting…

There was a storm last nightAnd the Taff turns, a dirty washRich with chocolate brown soilDragged down from the landOf…

Life has been a long grey lineFor quite some timeA thick, graphite smudgeSlick with sicknessWorries over words, and rulesFor some…

The night the men went awayWas warmed by the hot summer of the daySo the women stayed out, late, in…

The water rushes to greet me At the wooden fence Where my fingertips, press lightly Into the remnants of fallen…

If a writer falls in the woods does anyone read what they wrote about it? I think people have this…

Blackberries I picked with my Nan Like in the Enid Blyton book she bought me Blackberries that we picked in…

All porcupines float on water, so it says On the screen in my workplace lift Usually reserved for weather reports…

To be truthful no one really looks much at this website when I haven’t put up a post, so no…