Butterflies stopped visiting the meadow
the year your light went out.
Daffodils were joyless and sadness
weighed down the Barn owl’s flight.
The sun struggled to do it’s yellow best,
the moon simmered in shock.
One hundred fireworks refused to shower the night sky
with color, rain was colder and stung my face red.
Traffic became exhausted and biscuits stale.
My coffee, cold and clingy.
Peacocks screamed your name that night
Tossing it to-and-fro with wretched joy.
And now I sit, vodka-eyed, watching the walls cry,
my shale grey grief decorating the room like
I recently signed with Unbound, the literary crowdfunding publisher, for my book about maid abuse in Singapore called "Blood On The Banana Leaf." Funding stands at a revved up 40 percent so if you felt like pledging for some really excellent rewards and my unfettered love, please visit this link:
When I’m not writing or baking cupcakes, I am thinking about writing, reading, studying for my MLitt in Creative Writing at Glasgow University, designing book covers, gaming or watching dark, blood-splattered dramas like the Walking Dead, Ray Donavon, and Sons of Anarchy.
I am totally prepared for a zombie apocalypse!