Poems of memory, silence, and light.

Collection — Moments

Four small poems—separate, but together. Minimal words, heavy images.

Rooftop

Snow fell when I asked for sun. You pointed— a sliver of light broke through the clouds. “You did good.” And for a moment I believed you.
—Jesse

Sundress in Snow

Leaving the restaurant— snow again. Cold air clung to your skin. Only a sundress. I reached for my coat. You shook your head: “I chose this. I’ll deal with it.” I let you be.
—Jesse

Bookstore

A quiet aisle. I asked you to choose for me. You held a book— and for a second, it felt like holding your thoughts.
—Jesse

Fixing Your Hair

You lifted your hands, smoothed your hair— seconds bent, stretched into forever. I stared. “Sorry,” I whispered. You smiled, soft as mercy: “It’s OK.”
—Jesse

About

I’m a Canadian writer finding poetry in small, fleeting moments.

Snow on a rooftop, a sundress in winter, the quiet of a bookstore aisle—these are the sparks I keep. I write them down so they don’t disappear.

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