A Collection of Poems

A woman is a woman ... Each time she speaks to you And says nothing of the ghosts You would have wanted To stitch across her lips And on her...

It’s morning time: leaves lie restfully on the ground.

The sky offers hospitality to the clouds. It is there where thunderstorms and rainbows come.

You got on the same tram only to get off before me, your steps were slow, your hand shook slightly, your gaze was lit by nostalgia...