I cried a single tear,

My eye held it gently there

A lens through which to view the world

In which the world sees me.


Photography




No comments:
Subscribe to: Comments (Atom)

We are Memory

  How far back can we remember ?  One hundred years ? I wasn't around in 1925 and my family talked about the Second World War all the ti...

  • Epilogue
    Jolie Laide There she hangs, his masterpiece and her own, Immortalised in paint, painted over until, A finished moment masks all tha...
  • What she had become - a beginning
      Her beating heart, so tired now, nerves worn thin with worrying, Her legs, led her, running on empty, to the place where she could rest ; ...