My Friend Harry

A Good Friend, Gone Too Soon

We don’t love our children

Whatever we may claim: we don’t love our children.

The last drink

The build-up to a one-night stand

The Gist, the Whole Gist, and Nothing but the Gist

By the Color of My Sin

An Honest Poem About Hypocrisy

Getting the Better of a Protagonist and Vice Versa

There Is No Rush

A poem

There is no rush,
You are already there.

Music Is Alive

We miss live music

Unsung

Ain’t a hero or a saint
Before the eyes you never gained.
In the wars with misery and truth
The fall for you was the only sooth.