Tag Archives: Prose

Stopped for a moment in sleep;

star touches fingers,

mind crosses thoughts deep.


You search

for song

of one bird,


wild birds

there are


Onto back,

turned and

onto back again;

Heading for

the edge

of the world,

don’t walk

so far

you fall

off the edge

of my dream.

A hiraeth is a homesickness: spring waiting with a cure.

I and the you

this is me,

know what

it means

to let it be.

Asked with tongue,

and your heart replied.

Not drifting,

it’s a summer tide.

Strangers in a crowd,


Painful watching the dead die a second death.