The Sound of Silver

hoarfrosted branch


Silent skies spin silvered dreams,

Unbidden memories split silver seams;

Silver hair crowns ancient head,

Knowledge the treasure, and silver the thread.


lacy willows


all say

she was born

with a silver

spoon in her mouth,

and she swallowed it

until the lining leached

limp, a tarnished paste coating

her tongue with bitter mercury.

She dwindled, feeling nickel-

plated, tarnished deep beyond

redemption; should she

choose sterling strength

as treasure,

she’ll birth


Frosted Blades


Frosted blades scratch seamless sky,

angry to find no scars.

Serrated edge draws no blood,

nor sawing motion, vein;

Wind is no ally

when renewed rigour

results in naught.

Pain pitched at a hushed heaven

grows boomerang eyes;

the spy’s sabotage

skilfully dissects

along lines traced by rote.

Silvered cycle,

shameful circle,

drawn by frosted blades…

I’m Holding My Breath


I’m holding my breath, lest it melt all your silver,

I’m exhaling slow, lest excitement consume;

I’m slowing my heart, lest its beats quell your music,

I’m stilling my soul, lest its vibrance entomb.


Some moments are meant to be savoured, slow…