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(Untitled)
I catch your hand in the corridor
But do not catch your eye
You squeeze my fingers, spark my nerves,
And keep on walking by. -
Sleeping in the sun
Summer sky overhead
The bright clouds whisper past
In a lazy chorus
Which drags the dozing eye to one of a hundred soft sights
And away again
Eyes closed into a red haze
The heat dancing
Coloured on shadowed lids
Gentle strokes of sunlight on skin
Tangible as the careful breeze
Which stirs the rainbows on the water -
Cassiel
I dreamed I walked in a garden of flowers ( Read more... ) -
Why do my creative juices flow much better when I have work to do?
I won't live forever ( Read more... ) -
My sunset walk
Walking, as the sun crashes down over my head
Lighting the pale stone of the church to its ripened glory
And each step I take burns the frost away from my sole
Leaving a trail of dark patches back to where I came from
Glancing behind me to catch the orange sky float down from the shadow,
My eyes swivel to a small, bright speck over the horizon,
And I ( Read more... ) -
Let's Vignette!
One of the boys, a rugged-looking blonde with carefully tousled hair, throws his legs across the arm of the chair, his jacket tucked under his knees to cushion the thin iron. Laughing, he ducks as a paper ball whips over his head, and absent-mindedly swings a punch at his friend. Neither boy notices the girl with the brown eyes lift her gaze from ( Read more... ) -
Chapter the Seventh: In which our heroine gets out of, and into, a sticky situation.
The bats just gaped at me, jaws too near their shoulders to form words. Unlike Letha.
“EVEE!” she screeched, and I found myself swamped in the oil spill of chatter that just falls out of my best friend’s mouth sometimes. Verbal diarrhoea, I think the technical term is.
“Where have you been? And what’s going on? What did you do? Why are you only ( Read more... ) -
To S...
The plastic stars that glow on my dark ceiling glow your name. Every song lyric that bursts through my silent ears strikes a chord on my heart strings. I imagine your hand possessively on my arm in a conversation - I imagine the rise and fall of your chest next to mine on a lazy summer Saturday. We could read poetry together. We could be perfect.