whitby (Remove filter)
On Henrietta Street
The children howl, the house is hell
you close your eyes to cast that spell
Rising high above the endless squabbles
to meet me down upon those sodden cobbles
The rain and fog are gently taunting
your white shirt billows, opaque and haunting
On Henrietta Street…
Two hundred stairs, do I descend
with full-beam smile to my treasured friend
These precious moments, we get to steal
...
Wednesday 6th December 2023 10:50 am
Recent Comments
Manish Singh Rajput on Psychiatric Hospital
2 minutes ago
Manish Singh Rajput on Now or Never
6 minutes ago
Manish Singh Rajput on Book Lover
10 minutes ago
M.C. Newberry on SPRING CAFE
48 minutes ago
raypool on OUR HALL
1 hour ago
Hélène on Now or Never
2 hours ago
Hélène on SPRING CAFE
2 hours ago
R A Porter on Bungalow Dreaming
4 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Bungalow Dreaming
4 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Final visit? ( fictional )
6 hours ago