By Inklings hand
a simple ring...

Moonlight plays its dreamlike games
across the surface of the mirror...

A simple thing,
a fleeting touch of fingers hardly felt...

After the storm
has washed away...

Grey skies and gathering clouds
dampen the brightest of spirits...

So I’m standing here yet again
whilst the camera blinks...

When night is at its longest
And the air lies sharp with frost...

Silence fell and all the world stood still
as towers crumbled down...

From here upon this vantage point,
I have a clear view...

Silver fingers caress dark water,
becalming its heaving mass...

Does a gnome in the garden
keep fishing at night...

Betrayal,
A monochromatic rose...