Poetry

My favourite things

Brilliant crisp snow and frost covered berries,

Footprints that mark out our path and adventures,

Robins that flit from bush to tall tree,

seeing all of these things makes me happy as can be!

 

When the storm hits,

when the bills come,

when I miss that call,

I simply go off to my memory bank,

and then I don’t feel

so small!

Poetry

Pruning practices

I can see the roots

growing in the corners

of your eyes,

under the ground

where you think no-one will find,

and in my veins.

Oh, you hope

to hide from me, but

you don’t know

I can look inside myself.

I can cut you out

if I want to,

like a weed.

I can leave you to wither.

Would you like that?