Clean

The sweet rightness,
the love triangle
of me, the tap, the world,
where every hurt and burn and need
can be washed away,
glittering on dampened wings
and down the drain.

The cleanse, a creature of forever,
a holy touch that leaves
my sodden human skin
a thing of wonder
for those moments
when the water,
fallen with my sin,
sheens angled fingers
held out straight
to admire the clean.

Some small time later destiny reasserts
and I am unclean again,
the degrees of dirt a detail
in the grand cosmic tale
played out over the familiar stainless shrine.

Wash me clean, my fingers say
and tingle as I stretch
towards the cold flash of heaven.

© Amanda J Harrington 2016

My books on Amazon
My own website for books and tuition

Find me on Facebook and Twitter!

Read my Aspergers blog
And my fairy blog

Make Me a Story!

Make Me a Story! is a great new way to help your child write their own stories without feeling like they have to do it all on their own.

Each section in the book follows a simple yet effective formula: a fun and inspiring picture with lots of ideas and tiny plans building to bigger plans and then the whole story!

The pictures have been carefully chosen to be very different from one another and with lots of details to help the story grow.

There are robots, animals, real people, scary things, unicorns, naughty children, strange new worlds and lots more.

Available on Kindle

and in print.

© Amanda J Harrington 2016

My books on Amazon
My own website for books and tuition

Find me on Facebook and Twitter!

Read my Aspergers blog
And my fairy blog
Bread Stick Adventures!

Bridge

It was meant to be a bridge
and was so, right up until I saw
the log across the deep, narrow stream.

Only as far over as I was high
and if I stood, my shins would
just have been wet.

It was a log bridge,
wide enough to walk safely
from one side to other -

depending on you walking it right,
in a straight line,
no slips
or silly, childish accidents.

A dead old log,
worn, strong, used,
firmly set in both banks,
unmoving but somehow living to the touch.

I knew it waited to spin me into the stream,
take me to the water
like so many dreams
of drowning.

My small feet touched the very start and wavered.

I was sure the bridge moved,
the stream below stricken and gurgling,
caught in motion I could not help but watch.

The log bridge on a shallow water,
inviting me to trust, to balance perfectly
my own length.

Fraught panic and balance shied at safe, small waters.

I found a path around,
wending my way back,
beginning all over.

Darkened trees framed the bridge,
the banks hid the stream,
water rushed on oblivious.

© Amanda J Harrington 2016

My books on Amazon
My own website for books and tuition

Find me on Facebook and Twitter!

Read my Aspergers blog
And my fairy blog
Bread Stick Adventures!