Writing by Ayesha Drury

Sheffield Young Writers

While I sit here, observing the texture of a muffin. Edge of table digs into soles of feet. New life at this moment separating and multiplying and changing the world. Your world.
Isn't that terrifying? And wonderful.
So many studious serious beautiful faces. Sound of breathing. Rustle of ideas being born, discarded, reborn. A moment, that's all it takes. Change the world. You can turn the universe upside down and nobody'll notice.

Eyes turned inwards.

Clink of spoons. A room full of words. Ink follows my pen, because that's the way it works.
A tired gaze from the page. I'm making dust, carving patterns in fibres that probably no-one will ever read. When I am gone, the words will be too. But, for now, they're all there is.
Now imagine all of this.
Imagine it so it's real
Imagine the spaces filling up and filling in until you can't breathe or see or think or-

and then
suddenly
gone. everything. empty.

Breathe.

Nothing remains

Obliterate, for ever.
Leave a smudge on the table and
A haze in the air.
Reflection, butterfly breaks and scatters.
Holes grow until
Only edges remain, until
Nothing.

Except
I remember
flickering pleasure.
In destruction
In forgetting

Streetlights waver.

.........................

Winter Haiku

Three jumps flying leap
Into nothing, everything
They stare quietly.

. . . . . .

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