The evidence was damning; There was nothing I could say To deny the existence Of the terrible deceit I’d hidden. I tucked it in the pages Of some forgotten book on a shelf

Underneath, there is a fluid Running through the soil and sandstone Blood dark and rich with tales Buried deep and weighed down with buildings

Copy writing is the art of writing persuasive copies. Brilliantly crafted contents only have one particular thing in common – attention-grabbing headlines. Why? First impression last.

I was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair that was bolted to the floor, my right wrist handcuffed to the arm, a bright light shining in my eyes.

I’m dining on memories, Snacking on snippets of conversation, Gobbling stolen glimpses, Eating up everything I remember Of you as you were. I loved the you I remember;

From the park fountain Where the children drink, Lapping happily Between uncaring play And mothers' folded frowns. Dashing up ripples With little toy hands; Parachute droplets Wink in the sunlight

The eyes of dawn will make my bed In the river of some dream, Where half forgotten limbs will rise Like vapours on the breeze; But who will walk or lean on me Lean against this idle frame?

Mayfly if ever an angel be It was you and me Pirouetting in the air so free Above a cobweb lea If ever a child had azure blue wings As blue as a periwinkle sky