Leafy Bones

Tuesday, 15 November 2011



This is my poem for the The Gooseberry Garden Week 13. For me childhood, dreams, books and role models all fit in one, they float around in my inner child, and I don't think I'll ever grow up and out of their ingrained memory. I hope you enjoy it.


I've never been special
but in my heart and yours.
Cave-scribing till I understood
whilst singing in the garden.
The last time my hair fell in my eyes,
I'd become grown.
Shoelaces binding stories
and my sketches
to memories that
can no longer breathe alone.
My clouded head
grazing on love,
I will try to avoid walking
with my hands in my pockets-
I promise.


  1. love it,

    try to avoid walking with my hands in my pockets, wow.

    Happy Poetry Picnic.

  2. divine sing in the garden.

    very beautiful piece, Glad to read you.
    make a contribution to poets rally today, any poem is welcome.