His Eyes.


She doesn’t remember much about him. She can’t picture his smile or hear his laugh. He has become a distant memory, lost amongst many. A treasured dream that has long since been forgotten. 

He could have been her forever. He could have been the man waiting at the end of the line. The man waiting at the altar. But he wasn’t. 

She wonders sometimes, what happened to him. Did he find happiness? Did he find what he was looking for? She wonders if he wonders about her. 

He probably doesn’t. 

He was always doing something. He lived for the thrill, for adventure and fun. She did too. But there comes a point where your body fails you and you have to let go. 

He didn’t want to. 

So, she did for him. 

It’s been forty years. And though his blond hair has faded from her sight and his smile has been lost, she still remembers those eyes. 

As deep as the ocean and light as the sky. She always said it was like he could see into her soul. They were beautiful and dangerous. The mix often threw her heart into a racing fit. She wonders if hers did the same to his. She wonders and wonders. 

When she sees him again, he stares at her and she stares at him. They’ve spent a lifetime apart and yet the pull is still there. They don’t say anything, they don’t need to. 

Just being able to see his eyes again is enough. 

Where Did You Go, Dear Friend?


Where did you go, dear friend?
Did you venture out into space?
Go on all those adventures you’d talked about?
Did you see the stars and kiss the angels you’d dreamed of?

I hope you did,
I hope it was all worth it,
‘Coz, it’s terribly lonely down here without you,
And I miss you every day.

If you ever want to land,
Rest your tired feet,
You’ve got a home with us,
Always.

Just be safe,
I know I’ll see you someday,
Either in this life or the next.

Whatever it may bring,
I know we’ll meet again.

Ruins.


It never mattered to me, how you looked.

It never mattered how much money you had or where we went. All I wanted was to be with you. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?

You wanted more.

Always more.

More.

More.

More.

Until you’d sucked me dry and left behind a shattered shell of the woman you’d known. And I was discarded, wasn’t I? Like ruins. Like scraps of meat. Just someone you used to know. Someone you used to kiss and hold. Someone you said you loved and would never hurt or take advantage of.

But you did.

You did all those harsh and cruel things.

And you did so, without blinking twice.

Ding, Ding, Ding.

It felt like love, lying in your arms,
But it wasn’t, was it?
It was all a lie.
You didn’t really love me.

I was a play thing,
A game, something to forget about,
Just a toy for you to use,
Until you got bored that is.

When you decided, she was better than me,
When you thought, I was nothing,
Useless,
Worthless, you said.

A whore, you said,
A bitch, you said,
As you messaged her and kissed her goodnight,
As you made love to her and pushed me out the door.

Good luck, I thought,
For your fortunes, would soon change,
What comes around, goes around, they said,
You just didn’t expect it to catch up to you so fast.

Ding, ding, ding, I won,
You cheating bastard.

A Witch’s Smile.

She watches the sun rise,
Feels the warmth of its rays kiss her skin,
The touch of nature is a prize,
Her fondness of technology grows ever so thin.

The gentle caress of a soft breeze,
And the smell of freshly cut grass,
Are ever more comforting that a shopping spree,
This generation’s obsessions with screens is a farce.

A cry of a bird,
Or the meow of a cat,
Are far more satisfying than that of the absurd,
It is never a question of old or new, she’s as mad as a bat.

So, the witch goes on her way,
Enjoying the kisses of summer,
Her fluttering dresses do sway,
But her smile is more than the scarlet runner.

You’ll find treats and delights in her stutter.

Home.

Note: Inspired by Ed Sheeran’s Castle On The Hill.

For some, home is a landscape,
Of roaring fields, sunset lit evenings,
The buzz of nature and sweet embrace of fire,
Home is a hazy dream in the country.

For others, home is the city,
Loud laughter, music and chatter,
Tall buildings and vintage clothes shops,
Home is a burning city.

For some, home is an island,
Surrounded by water and the soft shores of golden sand,
Dance music and family adventures,
Home is an aquatic dream.

For others, home is a quirky town,
Libraries, cinemas and theatres,
Places full of words and song,
Home is a gentle undercurrent of familiarity.

For some, home is the people,
The familiar smiles and giggles in the dark,
The soft hands of a loved one or the hug of a best friend,
Home is love.

For others, home is not a place or a person,
It is that tug towards what is known,
What is warm, safe, what is comfort,
Home is a feeling.

Home is the moment your feet land on familiar soil,
And you feel at one,
The air is different here, there is an electric pulse to the ground you walk on,
Home is a sensation.

Of belonging,
Of being,
Of loving,
Of living.

Home is the taste of my mother’s cooking,
The smell of my father’s coffee,
The familiar weight of a book in my hands,
The magical eyes of my kitten.

Home is my brother’s strange music,
And my best friend’s smile,
The warmth of my mother,
The darkness of family tension.

Home is not perfect,
Home is a festering place,
Of depression, anxiety and fear,
It is a hell and a heaven.

But it is home,
And no matter how much I run from it,
I will always find myself back,
Standing in front of that white door.

Tilly & Her Magical Kitten.

The kitten followed her from the minute she got off the bus.

It was pouring down and this innocent little feline was wandering around, meowing sadly. Stooping to the cat’s level, she smiled and held out her hand. For some reason, witches had a connection to cats. Something about their natural inclination towards curiosity and mystery.

“Hello there,” the young witch said.

She was eighteen and it was her rightful age to pick an animal companion. It was settled the minute she laid eyes on the tiny tabby with hazel green eyes and a pink nose. “C’mon then,” she smiled, once the small cat had sniffed her hand and rubbed its body against her arm. Another thing witches could do when it came to cats, was tell their gender. In rare cases, a witch’s prediction was found wrong, but she knew that this little ball of fluff was a girl.

“My name is Tilly,” the witch said, smiling happily as she walked down the road with the kitten within the warm folds of her winter coat, protected from the cold and rain. “I think I’ll name you Lilly. For your white paws.”

Lilly looked up at her and purred. It seemed she agreed with her new name. Tilly smiled and quickly made her way down the empty, dark road towards a modest cottage house at the end.

“Mum!” she yelled happily as soon as she stepped into the house, making sure to shake off as much water from her clothes and boots as she could, taking her coat and boots off by the door, before stepping into the living room. “Look what I found.”

Her mother, a kindly yet powerful witch, looked up from the spell she was casting over a pot in the kitchen, making supper it seemed. “Oh, that’s wonderful dear. Have you named her yet?”

“Lilly,” Tilly said, walking towards her mother with the shy bundle in her arms, “Lilly, this is my mum. Say hello.”

Lilly looked at Tilly’s mother, Abby, and stared at her. For a long while they gaze met and then Lilly blinked, a sign of familiarity, love and respect among felines. “Looks like she likes you,” Tilly grinned.

“Looks so,” Abby smiled, “Tilly the coven are coming over for dinner later. Make sure everything is tidy, would you? I would myself but I had such a busy day at work, dealing with some rouge witches and it completely slipped my mind.”

“Sure, no problem,” Tilly said, and then cuddled Lilly to her chest, “c’mon I’ll show you my room. I even have a blanket you might like. I wonder if you like the colour red…”

Abby shook her head fondly and looked at the picture of her late husband on the bookshelf in the living room, open plan like they’d wanted, “she’s just like you, Nathan. Just like you.”

And if pictures could move, for they seldom do even in the magical world, Nathan would have winked.