Put this corduroy cat out, give her only fish-eyed dirt – it is moister than green grass, less porcelain to devour. Bleed the soft morning
Abandoning Mother
Day, no more than a sliver, casts a subtle glow on the path. A small bird tap-tapping on windowpane has awakened me, invited me out.
The Art Of Survival
Learned the art of survival from father, a commando- trained warrior, never able to leave the battles behind A sharp-shooter, whose expert eye tracked our every
Heart Treasures
Hand holding conveys child’s truth – trust in adult a treasured honour. (Written for Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Prompt: honour/ truth. Photo from personal collection.)
Winter’s Touch
Fat flakes of snow fall on my face, my lens, disrupt focus – each icy formation a gentle kiss. Oh, Winter, you crafty old man,
Ache
Sultry, this madness, life parodying desire, ache quenched by hope – unsatisfying at best. (Inspired by the daily prompts of Ragtag Community – quench, Fandango
