The other side of an evening of tango is when it goes wrong. I try to be philosophical about these times but... well in this case I waxed poetic: Mournful beat of a heart that is not mine,Alone in the crowded room, Packed tight among the writhing crush,Ungainly steps faltering, clashingDiscord among harmonyA dodgem amidst the waltz. Despite feeling so smallThere is nowhere to hide!
I have no previous as a poet - in fact I am not sure that this fragment is poetry at all but I was describing the rain covered window and it seemed quite neat so here it is: Rain on the pane, Races its track. Stoic drops in its wake. Markers of moments. Of pause… Continue reading Scribblings… Part 1