Languidly Leaves listlessly Leaning Rustling, Sighing, Seething With thoughts of Rain The rain that does not come With it’s sweet smell Of Innocence and Ozone This Rising Assassin we call Heat Rising before the sun, he comes With his Great Killing Swaths Bleaching the world…

The Firefly And The Moth 1/2 marathon poem #9 In the strange heat of an English summer Where the firefly hides within a bottle Safely glowing behind a glass bulb’s wall In these trying times he’s out of trouble In the strange heat of an…

The comfort of fireflies Housed in a brown-glass bottle The fruits of labours spent over A long day of laughter Is soon forgotten, Like the African mask keepsake From a year’s past holiday, In the face of a steaming Bowl of porridge Newly removed from…

I can taste it, the seething heat of a summer afternoon. It wraps me up like a blanket, its warmth kissing my skin like a long lost lover. I’m pulled into a dreamy haze, every step taking more effort than the last, wading through a…