Fallen leaves

leaves on the trees turning from yellow to brown

with a stiff wind soon on the ground

Rustling, rustling

A pile of leaves so neatly collected

Beckoning me so they're not neglected

Rustling, rustling

I jump I jump so gleefully

In a daze of joy so peacefully

To which I must admit this practice I adore

Now the leaves askew and beckoning no more

Until next year my beautiful foes

Rustling, rustling as the wind blows

Because Angels Are In White…

The poem is on Doctors who were heroes to us in the time of Covid-19

The Book is Being Written

How we observe and how we reflect.

The Dreary Faceless

The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.

The Model House

The facades of a perfect home.

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.