The Allotment

Three days had passed, since she visited her allotment last. She felt guilty for neglecting her parsnips, turnips, carrots, kale and cabbages. She hoped she would have prizewinners this year. She hoped for better than the disaster eleven months prior. The autumn she had succumbed to the fall. The weather had been exceptionally unkind. She … Continue reading The Allotment

Aged Nine

There is a video of me aged nine with bobbed red hair one finger in the air waiting for the magician to spin a plate. I am wearing red on my head, cheeks and heart sparkles too twiddling the tassels at my neck. What I would give to step through the film encase her in … Continue reading Aged Nine

Update: 1

This will be brief. I am aware, apart from my recent Age 22 post, you read mostly poetry on My Screaming Twenties - some of them personal, some tenuously autobiographical and others which arise from staring out of a window too long. However, that is about to change, slightly. Recently I was gifted a journal. … Continue reading Update: 1