Winter defines this stage, this page, night descending too early for my taste. If I catch a falling star, can I shed the excess layers
Category: aging
End of Day
Sun blazes before it falls, slashes the day’s sky – blue guarding against blaze. Golden grasses absorb the fire, brazen in their clay-baked fields. Branches
Soul Stalker
Downy blankets of white softly settle, Nature gratefully submitting to slumber as the Earth bids a seasonal adieu. Inside, my body craving hibernation, curls into
The Last Train (Sonnet)
We wait at the station, Mother and I, one final stop for her – painless she prays; I linger at bedside – prolonged goodbye –
Waiting on Heaven
“My children have come home to watch me die,” she tells her doctor, repeats to me, #5, when I arrive. “You leave the world the
Creating
Winter – the colour of my hair, a sedentary state of being, the numbing over of ambitions… These are but illusions… I am fluid, essence
