The Novelist

Princess Purple

Hers is a beauty of eloquent pen,

Trilogies etched with a holy amen;

Fragile and humble, she offers her soul,

Teardrops her parchment, resilience her scroll.

Grace Rain



She’s tired,

so tired,

tired of lists and the

obligatory dance of the

well-worn rut, the

choreography of the

damned. So she’s

letting go, letting

it fall, raindrops

baptising tear ducts

in a redemptive soak,

epsom salts of