Touch

Tiny nose of softest fur
Brushes warm against my cheek
Purest love

Photo credit: http://www.picstopin.com

All to Dust

What price memories?
All are felled with the vast claw
of progress.
…..

and a boulder (sorry)

From the newly revealed houses opposite, one of the residents takes a photo of the dust-blanketed Mercedes that sits huddled on his driveway. He gets in his car and dulled rear headlights emerge through the fog of disinterest that permeates the site. Our teacher comments that her car is over there somewhere too. With a rising sense of foreboding, I realise where my own is…directly behind the man-made mountain that now fills the space before our eyes.

Gleeful at having found such a handy parking space, one of many in a usually packed street, I dashed in to work without coming to a logical explanation for this unexpected bounty.

The children’s faces mirror my look of horror when I blurt out this realisation and they turn to me with round eyes and open mouths.
Thoughts of volcanic ash clouds and what happens to plane engines flit through my increasingly irrational mind as I go to collect my car. It has almost completely changed colour from a usual metallic green to a greying beige, glowering sullenly to me as I approach. I offer a few words to any kind spirit that might be listening before turning the key in the key in the ignition.

It is only us who are choked by the destruction of this place so filled with memories. The engine flares to life.

Frost bites

3.12.13
Temperatures fall;
Blankets, hot water bottles
Ease the chill.

Not sleeping – alone

Early hours insomnia –
Writing more inviting than
My cold bed.

The Winter Crone

Winter hovers close –

Reaching tentative fingers,

Leaving icy breath.

Sixth Former

Her face wreathed in smiles,

she bubbles with excitement.

Her first day.

Lone watcher

Softest grey

feathers nestle in the grass.

The tree is silent…

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