A wooden table dressed in festive cheer, Nutcrackers standing as Christmas draws near. A poinsettia glows in red velvet hue, While bears and small toys wait quietly too.
Above them all, a brick-built Santa stands, With a jolly white beard and welcoming hands. From tabletop scene to Santa’s bright face, At home with Family, I just love this space.
May laug....
Soft lights whisper through silver and white, A winter’s calm glowing warm in the night. Stars and snowflakes that brightly shine, But for my dear wife — what’s yours is mine.
I hung the baubles (well… one or two), You chose the rest — as you always do. The tree looks perfect, I’ll happily agree, Just don’t ask who....
John slipped out of the boathouse, the echo of her kiss still pulsing through him like a second heartbeat. Something in that brief, stolen moment had been taken from him and something far more dangerous had been left behind. He kept to the gravel path, low and cautious, using the thick manicured hedges as cover. Ahead, near the cr....
The mist had begun to lift by late morning, drawing back like a stage curtain to reveal Cliveden’s grounds washed in a soft, winter dew. I followed the gravel path skirting the Parterre, then descended the long flight of 172 stone steps toward the river. My hands stayed buried in my coat pockets, as if holding them still ....
The next morning, the mist settled over the Parterre to the south of Cliveden House, lying low across the gardens like a veil that refused to lift. From my place at the breakfast table, I watched it drift between the sculpted hedges and stone urns of the gardens.
I lingered longer than necessary, waiting, anticipating the moment Magda would ent....
Desire stirred, but I stayed still. The moment hovered between us, charged, trembling, waiting for me to respond, but I let it drift past. Instead of reaching for the invitation written plainly in her eyes, I straightened, searching for something to salvage the moment. Anything. But all that came out was a quiet, “I should call it....
The lounge at Cliveden breathed old-world opulence panelled walls, glowing in amber light, from a fire murmuring in the hearth. Soft aroma of freshly brewed coffee curled through the air. Across from me sat a man in his fifties and the much younger wife who seemed to orbit reluctantly around him. He launched into conversation without waiting for....
The wide stretch of water at Paulton Basin has a way of quieting the mind. On the surface, ripples move slowly across the lake, breaking the reflection of the sky into shifting patterns. Ducks drift lazily in the distance, and the reeds at the edge bow gently in the breeze. It’s a place that holds stillness, yet never feels entirely still.
For twenty years, my heart has known, A quiet love that’s never shown. The day we met, the world stood still, A gentle spark, a silent thrill.
Each time our paths would intertwine, The brightest first minute became mine.