With much fussing over plumb-lines and protective cladding The bricks are finally being placed in their course. Our breath held as the crystal panes disappear, their gleam

And why should it be easier to talk to you, now that you are dead? You left a husk, not some empty chrysalid. I do not believe you winged and lovely eating cream cheese sandwiches in heaven

Ten-year old Jake Corbett was struggling to cope with his ballooning weight.

My first love poem. Tread on it softly, they are my dreams.

short poem

ever been teased at school but have a big success in your career?

I would not want you anyway but this – a pink dawn Rising across the fields –your footprints small in the Dew on the grass – the first faint stirrings of a fractured

Once, long ago, in the last days of magic, there lived a contented husband and wife.