Gently you place the recognisable paper cup beside me. But it’s not just a coffee. It’s a warm and welcome rescue on a day that blooms from a restless night and meltdowns; It’s a reminder that you have my back, you will be there to catch me just before I fall, and bring me back… Continue reading Not just a coffee…
Tag: My Writing
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She knows when he is nearby. She doesn’t have to hear him or see him. There is that fresh fragrance with a hint of deep, strong wooden undertones. It is crisp and clean. The smell of sweet pine on a Spring day. And underneath that reoccurring yet not permanent essence is another homely aroma. So… Continue reading Home
Wee Bubble of Books 