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He lives in his hobbit’s shell admiring the view from the hotel room. Having not ventured out since his wife passed. As he wearily takes out a pen, he sketches the city scape. Watching people in crowds like empty shoals of clouds without name or number. He’s getting older. Dreams of stardom are more like … Continue reading
If you were to buy me flowers again would you be my valentine? Genuine apologies, real love. I guess I would but then. The time is gone, you are sat on the fence still. While I remind myself how much better I would be without you. Your arrow Cupid missed and I don’t want a … Continue reading
Geraldine Ward 