Gazing, into this small window of time,
I see stories unfold on crisp pages,
I see beauty in this window of mine,
Butterflies escaping cocoon cages,
Bright eyed wings uncurl all in a flutter,
on the branch of the tree with the green leaf
Browning, drifting, crinkling, joining clutter.
Dear window, in mind’s eye, such a brief
journey, to glimpse a faraway place
I know not when I shall see once again,
or feel the cold pinch, the hot slither lace
down to the fingers, wrapped around a pen;
In need I am of the window I see,
That gathers dust and is locked with a key.
I Am Being Haunted By Cake
I am being haunted by cake.
In the morning when I wake,
I can taste it on the tip of my tongue
I’m woken to the smell of coffee and toffee cakes,
of lemon drizzle, chocolate puddings, red-velvet, ice-cream, battenberg…
Three In The Morning
by Bilal Saloo
I like it when it gets dark
at three in the morning,
when the silence of blackness
is seeping and everyone is softly snoring Continue reading “Three In The Morning”
Your Voice is A Dream
Your voice is a dream to me
One I can barely comprehend
as it slips from my grasp
as I witness your end