Poetry

We craft our portraits

Out of old exercise books

Cinema tickets, favourite books

Receipts,  flyers, posters

and dog-eared photos taken with wind up cameras

Knowing that no matter how many

Parts we add,

We can never get close to

Who we really are.

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Poetry

Bearer

it’s just a small thing.

a trinket.

overlooked in a rushing crowd

but noticed instantly by family.

I wonder if they’d be surprised

to see it there,

making rainbows skip about the walls

as it caught the light

while I would sit, fingers wrapped around a tea cup,

in front of the window

facing them.

you’d be next to me,

teeth as bright as the gem you gave me

in a smile that i treasure even more.

Poetry

Lucky Cat

It sits there, waving its merry wave

as people pass

paying it no mind.

All it wants to do is greet them,

wish them a good day.

Over the years, the dirt and grime

kicked up by so many feet

clog its workings.

Its arm stiffens, its wave hardly a wave

and its painted smile flaking

but still it goes on,

hoping that one day, someone will wave back.

Poetry

Bookmark

I turn the page, resting my voice for a second

and catch your gaze on me, eyes bright

and full of delight.

You’ve said many times

that my reading voice is magical.

I wouldn’t have believed you if you hadn’t looked at me that way every time.

If I didn’t know

you’d never

use words that were untrue just to flatter me.

Your words are always true,

as is your encouragement.

As is your love.

And so I shall read for you

until the years catch us up

and I can read no more.