Poetry

Homely House

Strolling side by side, all together;

a family of yours

is a family of mine.

Laughing at jokes outsiders wouldn’t get

even if they spent an hour listening.

Because we are from the same pit of clay,

just a year apart and

different blood in our veins.

The path we’re on we will always walk,

speaking our minds

and always comfortable with each other’s thoughts.

Poetry

Berry Scrumping

We gather them nightly,

lip-smacking juices running down my chin.

You look like a vampire

you say, equally so.

We laugh as the moon cackles down at us

and goose pimples rise

up over our exposed skin.

 

On our way home,

hands weaved together, close,

more support than affection,

you slip your mask back over your face

hiding the pinkish stains from the world.

Hiding our sweet indulgence

even fromĀ  yourself.