When Eden faded away into memory,
the big beautiful trees,
the lovely grass
and pets all
...
It was in a light blue sky
on a cloudless day,
that images with great speed.
swept out of the sun
...
We do not live through things,
but by the meanings of it:
At home a parent
...
At times I battle
to find the reason,
why life is turning
into a cold season.
...
For a time the birds
and the trees
and animals dwelt in me,
but then came man.
...
The winter bites this morning
with chilling fingers
and there’s ice in the wind,
that blows through every thing.
...
It was the last day of May
and winter was creeping,
in to every thing.
...
I see a lightning flash
in the night
and it cuts past flats
and it draws a blue white line,
...
Each and every weekday
grips with its own ferocity,
as if life was meant to be
made of days of labour.
...
When her fingers
lightly ripple the water,
a row of fishes
dart to come to investigate.
...