One Child

One Child

In her bedroom.
Listening.

Listening to lessen the pain of seeing.
But sound-spores of Their fights and rows
Have been sown.

And though by day,
She stows them deeper and deeper down,
In the damp dark silence,
They root and grow and stalk.

One End of Summer

Seeded and full fruited, we lay. 
Our prickled hard-cased feelings
Peeled and squirreled away
For a brighter, braver day.

One Forgotten

One Hospital Wait

The weight, 
The crushing,
Rushing 
Mad-slide  
Of fear. 

Still, waiting for word 
Of their loved one. 

One Ending

A subtle causeway
Floods,
Subsides,
As inside,
The rip tide
Of your lies
Erodes
Those roads
We built
Between us.

One Sleep

One Hope

Sometimes,
The sky
Above
Is enough.

Some days 
It’s all
I can 
Hope for.

 

 

One Sketch Of A Girl

A sketch I did some years ago, with a little PS colour ‘wash’ added today. 

 

 

 

 

 

One High Tide

Blanket tide
Drawn high
Under the thin chin
Of the raw moon.

One Cafe Drawing

A cup of tea and a quick sketch of two women in a cafe.
(Digital colour ‘wash’ added at home). Julie Bryce 2014