Sips

Her coffee tasted like interrupted sleep. Her muffin crumbled like her morning had. She needed cold slices of cucumber to deflate the bags under her eyes but all she had was wet wipes. So she wet wiped her way through the day until wine time.

Her wine tasted like salvation.

Cloudland

She wanted to sky dive: fall towards the Earth and rain down on her friends and family in a roar of glory, to land a better version of herself.

They looked up at her, as they always have.

She had forgotten that she is their sky.

Full steam

She had recently been reminded, that time will continue to go on regardless of what she chooses to do with it and so, she grabbed time by the hands and ticked boxes rather than standing still and being struck.

Twelve ‘O’Clock Somewhere

She didn’t need a clock to know the time. She could tell by the piles of folded washing, the amount of toys covering the floor and her toddlers resistance to everything, that it was undoubtedly wine time.

Till Dawn

They swaddled her in the pastels of dusk, eyes falling with the rising of the moon. Her slumber so sweet; Sugar crystals formed on her eyelashes. Sealed with a kiss, on peach coloured lips, she was all but wrapped in a bow.