What is small? A baby blue-tit’s beak hungrily pecking grains of poppy seeds.
What is huge? A happy jolly giant stalking through Hoghton woods.
What is hot? The scorching sun as it melts the wax of my candles and the flickering orange flames dancing through the bonfire at Brindle Lodge.
What is cold? The early morning frost on a crisp winter day and frozen sparkling icicles dangling dangerously from my bedroom windowsill.
What is dark? A strange cave filled with flaming lava pit fallen to shadow.
What is empty? A human filled with tears of drops with a cold but found nothing accept black overshadow.
What is slient? A void filled with a miles to your end but with frozen stone.