Trees dusted in snow watch over you as you sleep. Your poinsettia holds onto three bright petals. The mountain winks in the background. Here in their shadow, you are small, but full of strength. Here, he runs his fingertips down your spine as pine whistles in the window. The trees are silent in their watching. […]
We rounded up a jam jar with fireflies. Still sticky, they glowed, lighting up the innocence in her blue eyes. We laughed, surrounded by bread crumbs and things that glow in the moon.
I wake and the world is already bright, soaking itself in around me. I stretch my calves against the sheets and clench my duvet in my fingers, as the morning sun stretches in through the window. His back raises and falls with sleeping breaths. I trace the smooth skin, and press my forehead to it. […]
He is leaning with his back against the twisted metal bars of the playground. Painted bright red and yellow, they are a mess of colour beneath his black jacket. White fluff drifts past my face. It drifts everywhere like snow; and I thought winter was over. But here is the white fluffy stuff of summer. […]
Little mugs with coffee and wasted crumbs, Slow lilt of music and the echoing hum Of soliloquies aimed outwards Into the spicy space of caffeine fumes, And burning toast with little room To move our legs or fingertips, But closely knit and brightly lit, We spend our days with coffee cakes, Creating symposiums in the […]