…gracefully curved, beautiful delicate wings; sexy without being revealing. Discernible, yet intimate, so much like a woman’s back. And non-erogenous; perhaps that is why they let her be without longing or carving.
Hmm…’querencia’…yes, they are her querencia…the place where she is her most authentic self. Continue reading “Wings”
He had run into her at the supermarket.
She had walked in, the summer breeze billowing around her printed floral skirt. Meeting her there was most unexpected; it was like a daisy had grown in a perfectly manicured lawn, where it wasn’t supposed to, amidst a host of Bougainvillea, Hibiscus and Gerbera, and yet had brought in more beauty to the garden. Continue reading “Apollo and Daphne”
St. Peter’s Care Home
April 3, 1997
I am writing to you from Sheffield.
I know I haven’t come down to Bradford to meet you at the Care Home in a while. Heather and the baby are with me at the moment since Peter’s gone to London for army training session for three months. Heather isn’t yet too comfortable looking after the baby on her own. We have done up the study room as the nursery for now and the baby seems to love it. Continue reading “DEAR ANNA..”
side by side
endless ladders of heaven
tuned to a perfect fifth
on the left shoulder
then draw the other
across the first
in a slow, deliberate motion
like the bow of a violin
a perfect arco
and then get carried far away
as far as the legs can take…
It had stopped raining. A beautiful kind of hush had fallen, as if a lullaby had just concluded and a soothing sense of order had been infused on the surroundings. Continue reading “Modicum”
The quaint little café lay ahead, its faded brown paint looking despondent among the huge city buildings.
A light blue metal sign board above read “La Tinta” .
Beads of raindrops swung merrily from the edge, like trapeze artists, unwilling to relegate themselves to the grey stone floor of the patio.
La Tinta… ‘the ink’ ….now that’s a strange name for a café, he thought. Continue reading “La Tinta”
I remember the day like it was yesterday.
It was a beautiful evening. The week long storm had washed every sidewalk and gutter clean and a tincture of freshness still lingered in the air despite the traffic fumes. The vibrancy of the city had bounced back in the instant the clouds cleared and already the parks were a hum of activity. Continue reading “Sillage”
She pushed open the heavy swing door and entered the library.
The floor with alternate black and white tiles appeared like a humongous chessboard. ‘Chess is a foolish expedient for making idle people believe they are doing something very clever, when they are only wasting their time.” Was that George Bernard Shaw? she chuckled softly. Continue reading “Best friend…”
He was happy.
She could tell by the smile that played somewhere beneath his large moustache, like an errant child hiding in the bushes afraid to show himself. Continue reading “Train is the word of the day!”
She wasn’t a regular.
But he had a cancellation and well, she did have that puppy eyes look…. Continue reading