sky tears drip onto moonlit ruins of forgotten days...

Watch as I cry running, dancing, barefoot atop hills of lemon

History has a habit of 'forgetting' powerful, strong women like Queen Hatshepsut: princess, wife, queen and king.

Oh dear moon it cannot be

I see the light of the stars in the starlight of the trees of the golden brown earth and deep roaring rivers and green flowered meadows...

Wind howls through my ears/bright hair a mess of knots and twists/playing with the breezes,/my cheeks bitten by the cold/bright red nose/

I lie there, peaceful and serene watching

Hold me. Hide me in the warmth of your arms where safety is guaranteed

Ella. You're like honey and sunshine, all rolled into one. Your laugh is like starlight...

Words are like butterflies.

I'm one in a million. Another being made of stars and fairy-dust

Does it happen to you? Or is it just me awoken, alerted, trapped by this shadow that haunts me. In moments of peace, it comes sniffing ...

Quiet. The cold warmth of the night seeps in filling every crack, every hole, every doubt. It brings tales of hope and ghastly terrors,...

Our light burns on. Fighting the darkness.

In all there are five senses. Some say a sixth sense exists, the "gut feeling". For me it's different. Find out through this poem.