She fell at the gate, her name rusted over above
the words ‘angels once stood proud here.’
Somewhere between the farewell handshake,
and the tracks where a bookie accepted her halo
as a down payment, she more than just her grace.
writing as a way of life
My ramblings poems and musings enjoy or not no pressure
The varied thoughts of a millennial modern linguist.
Talking about real things
Poetry and Poems
All that is me!
She turns coffee into books so she can afford to buy more coffee. And more books.
Fabulously Refined/Wildy Inappropriate
Author: The Eternals Series
I Kill My Own Spiders
Just A Little Orchid, Blooming Away
A few new poems every week. Haikus on Sundays.