Green House

Meet me at the green house

in the alley

that changes to suit you in spring.

There we can dance

between poppy dot playgrounds

and eat hot raspberries

with bare feet

on sprigs of soft new grass

in dappled sunshine

that begs

to be pleasured.

© k~


The Sound of Time

Screaming into an empty field

of wayward wheat

though, no one hears the sound.

Dissolved against a backdrop

of skies bigger than


she breathes in

moments, like star dust

to begin again



© k~