Girl Time


My daughter and I are having girl time. Boys are out on a three-hour cycle. My son is planning to do a ninety km event later this year. He will be twelve. Good for them I say! In the meanwhile my angel daughter has plaited my hair and touched up my face. She is teaching me to paint because she has been “painting for ages”. Her presence lights up my world.

Painting with Words

Crimson paint is splashed across the crisp, clean fabric of a nation’s flag – the last works of a man before being tied to a cross and shot – the dripping of wet paint as red as the blood that flows through veins paints its picture without words, and as the canvas dries, the pumping of the blood throughout the body slows, until it eventually stops.

Unsung Heroes

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Unsung Heroes.”

When my artist friend becomes famous
My claim to fame could be
I have a painting by her hand
From her hand as a friendship gift
Kindly given to me

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty

William Blake