Monday, January 10, 2011


This little girl and I, we have spent many laughs together, to the envy of most others. I have been strung to her lonely finger for longer than I care to remember.

We have bounced, danced and squeaked at each other, I more than her. I have loved her and she, me, her sky coloured pink in my wake only.

I stand suspended in the air by that little finger she has tied to the ends of me.

This season of air is called spring. How her hand holds my string, feels like warmth in winter.

As we face light, I dance effortlessly. Her grip loosens. She is getting ideas.

As I let her go ... I rise.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

My Soul Sister

A precious flower, in a beautiful glass case, rooted to the tip of the highest mountain, coloured brighter than the sun, wrapped in the cosy comfort of a rainbow.

That’s my sister. A fairy tale’s fairy tale princess.

A protected warrior, up in arms when required and sometimes just for fun. Oh how colourless life would be without her. She can single-handedly light up a city of darkness. A hardest day, made simple in her company. The rainbow in the sky of my life, nature's little miracle, my sister.

The Conversation Killer

Meetings with the conversation killer
Leave me in the want for silence
For in the incidental quiet between us
I find chaos rising.

This butcherer of words
Is not a friend in the least
A companion he may have come to be
Another Me in the making.

This unlikely hero
Engulfs me in his voiceless waters
Suffocating me now and resuscitating again
Becoming the cause and effect of the same.