Luke Bateman, Author at Cherwell

"Worlds branch off like capillaries From an oaken aorta"

"Empty time lent shape by the weekly rites Of chiselling the stubble away"

"A peal of percussive raindrops tumble from towering heavens. A lonely leaf joins the fray in a willowing, whispering wash."

As we sailed on enthralled in the pursuit of some ardent glory

Before we were mad We could dance as we wanted

Immortality comes not in cobweb, but in gold tinged stone.

Luke Bateman