Life surges like a spring of water,
Babbling over stones,
As forget-me-nots and grasses
Bow and rise,
Painting luscious meadows
With green brushstrokes.

The ocean's breath transforms
Into splashes of lace at the shoreline,
Each a small kiss, briefly alive,
As waves thunder against rocks,
Eroding centuries in seconds,
While sculpting the ancient earth.

Memories drift by,
Stained with sunset,
A brief melancholic moment
Alighting on my fingertips
Before surrendering to the wind.

Night spills its ink across the sky
And stars pierce through,
Offering glimmers of hope
As suns continue to shine
Through the darkness.

©️Lizzie Bevis

I remember when,
As a child,
My mum would "blow raspberries",
In my face...

She would tell me:
I would laugh
and giggle,
until the craze
meant I couldn’t wiggle
or scream, from paralysis.

I remember when,
As a teen,
I would blow raspberries,
In my cousins’ faces,
As I would babysit them
And play hide-and-chase
Until they came out screamin’

I remember when,
As an adult,
I would blow raspberries,
In my nieces’ faces,
Until they would dream of,
and scream for, wild raspberries.

I remember when...
All of that seemed not so long ago —

To like what you do
does not mean that
you can do what you like.

There are rules to adhere to.

Which is a shame
when there is no one to blame
but yourself.