Poetry

Photo

A single frame, a quiet breath, Caught in silver‑halide light, Where moments linger, soft and still— A photograph, a slice of night. The shutter clicks, the world stands still, Colours blend in muted

Foggy

In the hush of early morning, A silver veil descends, Foggy streets lie mute and dreaming, Where lamplight softly bends. The world becomes a watercolour, Each contour blurred, indistinct, Footsteps whisper on the cobbles, As

Denim

Denim whispers in cotton‑woven seams, A sturdy cloth that bears the street‑wise dreams. From work‑yard looms to city‑side cafés, Its indigo hue fades in sun‑kissed ways. Trousers cut with a straight, honest

Sting

Barefoot through the hedgerow, slow and low, Where tangled briars and sweet briars grow, A sudden sharpness, bright and neat, Ooh! That nettle got my barefoot sweet. Smarting starts, a tiny fire, Making

Alike

Alike in hush of dawn, Two souls that share the same soft breath, Like twin rivers winding through the vale, Their waters catch the same pale light, Their reflections merge in quiet unity, A mirror

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