I’ve been awake for a few hours already when my mum walks into my room:

“Lil, you have a postcard from Bali”

I sit up from my comfy bed with a perplexed face.

“Bali?”

I reach over to grab the postcard from my mum and notice the cliche sunrise photographed on the front with big, bold and white writing stating “Bali” I flip it over to find stamps marking Indonesia, Singapore and England. Still puzzled, I read the sprawled handwriting and a huge grin appears across my face.

My friend David from Austria, who I met whilst travelling in Vietnam and Cambodia has sent me a postcard! He remembered!

I originally asked him to write me a postcard after seeing him write some for his friends in Cambodia. I wrote down my address thinking he would probably forget, but low and behold – he didn’t! 

Honestly made my day, a few handwritten words and now I can’t stop smiling. People like him, friends like him – are worth so much.

Today is going to be a good day!

Advertisements

“Let grammar, punctuation, and spelling into your life! Even the most energetic and wonderful mess has to be turned into sentences.”

—Sir Terry Pratchett

Rose Crown

run little one run free

run fast and strong my daisy

spread your little petals

stamp and glide through the nettles

jump over the wild thorn

over meadows my sweet fawn

for the ring does not fit your finger

no more do these bad thoughts linger

the necklace snapped apon your skin

the chain links broken; metallic and tin

the guitar strings struck a familiar sound

flashing a hurt so deep, so round

stop, daisy! be careful of the rose crown

it’s led by dark raven’s and a goul’s frown

just run little one, run

don’t carry this pain, it’s neither fruit nor fun

my little cherry-cup, rouge butternut melody

don’t look behind you, run free

that face in the shadows behind the woods

does not carry wealth or flower goods

little pip grow to your hearts content

for that’s what the crown has sent

face forward towards the sun

because what has happened, is done

enough with the temptation my dove

run away flower, run away from love.

Warm blue

Midsummer’s meander

Curved on calls of grandeur

Doth thy no nothing of fate

Something small, something faint

Like a ghost’s cough in the breeze

Uneasy, uneven – freeze

It’s true I miss us I miss you

my heart waits: one, one, one, two

Wrapped in blankets and your hug

Sipping hot tea from a silly mug

my lazy heart yearns for blue

I wonder if it misses a green colour too.