Sweet smell of pastries Emanating from the shop She checks her wallet

Isolated road A tyre stuck in a deep rut Phone battery dead

Morning has broken A loud cry of an egret Warns others of me

An eerie silence The sound of dripping water Shatters the silence

Facing writer’s block My collection of photos Does a superb job

Our sons and daughters In them runs our unique blood Treat them equally

Outside it is dark The wetland is beckoning My Sunday birding

In golden colour The beauty of a sunset Painting on the wall

Small town Bintangor Well known for its two products Orange and tycoon

Woke up in darkness I know I have killed something Smell of crushed bed bugs