Poetry

Outdo

In the hush of morning, I try to outdo the sunrise, To paint the sky with colours brighter than any neighbour’s dream, Each breath a challenge, each step a quiet vow to

Abase

When pride is stripped and honour’s crown is bowed, We watch the mighty sink, their spirits subdued. To abase a soul is to pull the bright sky low, To drag the lofty mountain

Crust

A slice of pie, its crust a golden lace, holds within a spiced apple flavour, each flake a whisper of buttered labour, cracking like dawn over a sleepy village.

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