Poetry

Treat

A Treat In the hush of a rainy afternoon, the kettle sighs, steam curling like a sigh, and on the china plate rests a humble delight— a warm scone, split, its crumb tender as

Twang

In the corner of a battered flat, an old guitar leans against the wall, its wooden belly sighing with rain‑kissed air, ready to give a sudden, bright twang. A finger flicks the

Alien

In the quiet hush of a midnight sky, A silver shape drifts beyond the clouds, Its eyes like twin moons, reflecting thought, A whisper of worlds we’ve never trod. It steps upon

Cinch

A soft leather band that hugs the horse’s side, Holding the saddle firm where reins and hope collide, It tightens with a gentle pull, a quiet grip, Turning restless nerves to steady, sure‑footed

Liver

In the quiet hush beneath the ribs, A dark‑red organ hums its steady song— The liver, Britain’s stoic chemist, Filters life’s broth with patient, tireless grace. It holds the amber tide of

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