Sometimes words are all we have. What could have been and what should have been sit starkly against what is and what was and all there will ever be. Sometimes a life is so short, and yet its impact so huge, that we wonder how it could ever be contained by time.Then we realise it isn’t, for as long as we love those we have lost they live on in us. Every time they cross our minds, or when their names grace our lips, they enter another day. And if that’s true, if we could write their names, if we carve them with ink into paper then just maybe, in some way or another, we could write them into life.
Having grown up in North Wales, spent five years in London, and now currently living in Oxfordshire with her husband, Jonathan, and sons, Harry and Gabriel, Rosie has written poetry for as long as she can remember. A self-professed ‘hoarder of words’, she still has copies of her very first poems about bunny rabbits and the sun, and every poem she has written since, as she grew and used her writing to make sense of the world around her and to navigate life’s trials and tribulations. Rosie has always found connection in the raw and relatable words of other writers and hopes to be able to provide the same to readers with her poetry.
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