***
opening the book
the red poppy lifted itself from white paper
red petals cascading out
***
the page empty
a jumble of letters
in a heap at the bottom of the page
thought
scribbles
***
the faded diary fell open
old fashioned cursive writing
came alive
carried on
writing...
***
softly and gently
unseen on the yellowed pages
came the song
***
there were no choices except sideways
the paper unfolded
and refolded again
***
in a brown wooden box
the parting gift he gave her
an origami sea shell
***
origami stars in glass bowl
caught from a night of wonder
indigo night sky
***
doorway into the painting opened
a room of canvas
within canvas
echoes
of paint
***
from the spine of the book
copperplate writing spilled out
and wrote on the walls
ledgers
of the past
***
whispering
in libraries of the mind
unborn words
waiting
to be written
***
morning star sings her prayer
from the songsheet of fading stars
dawn's gentle hour
***
sunset
blazing
her last few moments
a crystal dances around the walls
the intensest of blue-greens
***
the blank white page
of innocence
now grubby on the corners
thoughts lingering for so long
after the event
***
amidst a river of calligraphy
a roaring waterfall
the page blank
***
she sung her lullaby
but
no-one heard it
for the music
was never written
***
the sketch book
turned its own pages
swiftly
flowing
watercolour brushstrokes
***
the bookcase empty
except for old photograph
used as a bookmark
a black and white
irish castle in the mists
***
brown luggage label
a bookmark
poignant memory
***
