Life
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Chamomile
The word sipping is very pretty, isn’t it? Delicate, like the action it shows. I can see a small pair of hands, a little tea cup beside a little light. And I know it is home. I know it is… Continue reading
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For The Birds
The birds are home and so am I. I could say they are noisy, but they are not really noisy. They are only noisy if I think of them in relation to my world. On their own, they are just… Continue reading
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A Silence
I am tidying the mess my three children have made. Motherhood has broken me, today. It has hurt me, it has hurt them, and all because I have failed to be perfect. And so have they. But as I am… Continue reading
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Writing
It comes when it is ready to come. It chooses, I have no say. I just feel and write what the feelings translate to. A miraculous marvel. A beauty of life I’m so, so thankful for. Continue reading
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The Soft Things
The quiet is here and so am I. I will life to slow down, I ache for it; I am not made for speed. I am made for the whisper of the trees, for the silver trail of snails on… Continue reading
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Stolen
The internet has stolen my words. They were here, tied with a little bow, tagged: ‘Brooke’s heart’; now they’re gone, the internet stole them. Snuffed them out, like a candle, with ease. The internet has been down all day, so… Continue reading
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Small Ball
Here I am again with nothing to say. How often have I done this, since the birth of my blog? How often have I just been here because being anywhere else hasn’t seemed like an option? Many a time. I… Continue reading
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Fully Human
I’ve seen that image, again. She sits alone (you could not get any more alone) at her husband’s funeral and we all just sit here and shake our heads, because what else is there to do? I’m speaking of the… Continue reading
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Truth
I am drinking night-time tea, writing, as if to write to a lover of feelings yet to be spoken. I’ve been in the garden today. I sometimes wish my Nan was still alive so I could ask her: ‘Is this… Continue reading
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