The gentle tingle of your electric finger down my spine

The wistful sigh of warm breath

The glow of deep soft lamplight and the

Caress of fresh clean sheets.

You tangle yourself up in me.

Our fingers twirl playfully, our heartbeats 

In rhythm. Ba doom, ba doom.

I feel a trickle of uncomfortable sweat down my clavicle, but the thereness outweighs my overheating body. 

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Grandad’s Armchair

Strange smelling, mustard brown moth-eaten chair, where Grandad sat on a Sunday afternoon after lamb with all the trimmings.

Like a heaving ancient giant, with his mouth ready to catch flies and glasses knocked to one side, he snores and wheezes, his tongue sissing like a snake.

With a choo choo train I fly around and scream and crash and wallop into everything; as Acti...

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In an old house

I found an

old doll.

It looked worn

and scuffed and

like it had

taken a fall.

Her arms were

torn and all

out of kilter.

She was lying

in some kind

of dirty old filter.

Her face was

chipped, broken

and her smile missing.

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