In the Fridge

There is a dead woman’s food in the fridge, 

And it’s starting to stink.

There’s a dead woman’s food in the fridge,

But no one can bear to get rid of it, 

Either because it is the last part of her,

Or because no one has time.

There is a dead woman’s food in the fridge,

And like her,

It is rotting. 

An Ode to Coffee

You beautiful brown brew,

Instilled with bitterness and fire.

You stunning collection of sun and dirt,

Filling me with energy and light.

Without you,

I don’t think I could survive.

Thank you,

For letting me turn you,

into pages and pages of 


Same time tomorrow?

Wednesday Works: The Formula For Happiness

There is no proper formula for happiness.

No scientists or chemists hidden behind machines,

Spinning circles with different chemicals and substances,

Searching for the answer.

There is no formula for happiness,

But there are ingredients to try.

A smile full of teeth,

Enough warmth to fill a chest,

Laughter loud enough to fill halls and cathedrals,

And you,

My sweet one.