The living grieve over the dead. Death is a strange affair. In it, the dead actually survive, the living die. 6
Category: Poems
In the words of Robert Frost,
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
All other nights seem commonplace in the shadow of that night, where dormant feelings woke up to sight. An unspeakable, aching void was ladled by […] Read More
We tend to go back to the start, when the smells carried a meaning and a laugh, the impatient inner flutter stayed long after the […] Read More
So often there comes a time. I badly want to weep but can’t. Instead, I keep it safe, within. Now, I am heavy with the […] Read More