You walked too close to the fire, orange boy,
but I loved the smell of smoke on your warm fur...
You stole my heart-
like a pick-pocket; lifting...
Often on the river embankment I observe the same...
Gliding, floating solitarily whilst treading and...
This poem goes out to Amanda Todd, a 15 year old...
You were my King of cresting wings,
On waves of love I’ll always cling...
If I could bring you back
With words of compressed air...
In the early hours of the morning
I am mourning...
Lavender tinted sky
Rests upon the willow...
The halls were decked
The table set...
When I stopped writing I
swallowed words...
There was a time when the sky was blue,
the air was clear and the dams were full...
There are mornings
when I wake up...