Marie381Uk
Bio
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
Stories (3298)
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The Christmas Angel
The Christmas Angel Every year the town waits for Christmas, but for me it has always been something more than lights or gifts. It is the quiet that falls over the evening streets, the way the snow makes the world feel soft and patient, and the feeling that someone is watching over us. That someone has a name I cannot speak aloud, yet every Christmas I feel their presence. I call it the Christmas angel.
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Fiction
What Will Happen To Our Earth
What Will Happen To Our Earth I often sit by the window and wonder what this world will look like when I am old. The sky never feels the same anymore. Some days it has a tired colour, as if it has been awake for too many years without a proper rest. I watch the clouds move and they seem slower than they used to be. It is strange how the earth can feel alive and unwell at the same time. I think we feel it too. Maybe we always have.
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Fiction
Where Our Morning Tea Truly Begins
Where Our Morning Tea Truly Begins Most mornings I sit with my cup of tea and let the steam rise into my face, and I think about how easy it is to take this simple comfort for granted. We boil the kettle. We choose a bag or a spoonful of loose leaves. We pour the water. It feels so ordinary. Yet the truth is that the tea has travelled farther than most of us ever will. So let me tell you where it begins, because the story is worth knowing.
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Fiction
The Return of Covid in the UK
The Return of Covid in the UK I could feel it before anyone said a word. That quiet shift in the country, the same uneasy breath people took years ago when Covid first arrived. And now it is circling again in the UK, rising in numbers, slipping back into headlines, making its way through towns the way cold air moves through open doors.
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Fiction
Granny’s Fruit Scones Resipe
Granny’s Fruit Scones Resipe I grew up with the smell of warm fruit scones drifting through the kitchen, the kind that made you pause and breathe it in like it was part of home. My granny never made a fuss about anything. She moved around the bowls and flour with that calm way of hers, and she always measured, every time, like it was her little promise that the scones would come out right.
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Feast
