When the Sea Was Origami

The leaves on the tree shimmer,
catching the breeze, casting
my mind this way and that.

I have words circling my head,
clattering around - flitting
between memories and dreams.

What did I have?
What would I like?

I want it all and none of it.
It is all inside, cloaked in smiles.
The sunshine cannot let

the moon control the tides. 
The sea is calm, tacit; it ripples.
Wavelets are origami ships.

My dreams are beneath 
an ocean heart. 


©Sarah Drury 2023


I wrote this poem as my autistic son went on work experience this week in a cafe, and they paid him £4 so he was thrilled!

You come in clutching
your pound coins - Four!

Your face glows, peacock 
proud. The coins reek

of dirty tables and 
overpriced food. People

who maybe wish
for a plate of chips

not eggs benedict or
a salmon vol au vent

You edge amongst 
the punters, break your

voice through the mirror.
The glass slices your

tongue, the autism a gash
but they say one day

you may even be 'normal'
But why?

© Sarah Drury 2023


I wrote this poem last year, after a special moment with my son last Christmas…


It is civilised,
beans on toast swished down
with non-alcoholic Chardonnay.

Generic classical music, Radio 3,
Silence from lips often throwing
flames and shrapnel.

‘This is awkward’ you say,
sophisticated words,
and we share a movie moment.

You read a poem,
and for a time, I feel 
Bohemian, and 

I forget 
that life is not art. 

© Sarah Drury 2021