|I could hear her cries for mercy,
her pleas for justice, for closure,
But I couldn't let her go.
I wasn't yet ready
to tell her story.
Posts from This Journal “poems” Tag
Like a rough pencil sketch, a dragon's head materialised from the clouds, the edges blurred in shades of lead and cream against a background that…
My feet ached in blue suede heels I'd bought on sale at Westgate, but I was distracted by the way the evening sun caught the Auckland skyline as…
If you squinted hard enough, and used the generosity of spirit required for the earnest appraisal of a child's fingerpainting, the clouds painted…