That was fun Those unexpected coffees in the sun Some belly laughs while you were on the run This was fine A gift of time An in between moment became mine This was ours Planting seeds and flowers Watching telly after hours That was good Laughing at stupid jokes Because we could You were home Meals on the sofa Not chats on the phone You were here Upstairs working Where I could hear You, loud and clear With me near Trying not to interfere A new trio was born And I'll attempt Not to be forlorn Rather, to thank My lucky stars For this shared time of ours.
En Famille
I woke up this morning feeling fortunate A new fortune amassed over the weekend A weekend of moments with you two Laughter and music, safely stored in my memory bank Nothing is more precious to me Nothing more worthwhile Than these hours of complicity We three Or others there peripherally or permanently The goodness of that free time shared makes me wealthy Your voices collect interest in my memory Your words hang like priceless art in my mind's eye I start my week adorned with the rare jewels of happiness What an investment! A weekend together en famille.
What have you got?
You wonder what you want, What you desire, To what you aspire. You ask what you will need, To leave the vacuum That you assume Why not Take stock Of what you’ve got Of what is here, now for the taking? Look around you To see those who Are not faking. Who need no reminding, Who are still finding, In you, Enough.
You
You Why do you who, Makes flowers grow from words Why do you who, Shapes graceful gardens in paragraphs Why do you whose, majestic rivers of rhyme Flow, Just so Why do you, landscaper of ideas, hold on To your feelings, and fears As the breeze blows in on the air So we grow from worries shared To free your mind from many cares Let go of your balloon of fears, And watch it as they disappear, Dispersing dandelion clocks Tied up in knots inside and locked, From outside wisdom closed and blocked, Your worries start to take control They take up space they growl they grow. So open up and let them go And no more seeds of sadness sew To grow into weeds of your anxieties. Instead, favored with air fair weather Light as a feather Cut free You will blossom As yours is genius beauty and creativity.
To Do.
Much to do Many tasks Doing all, that 'To do list' asks Listing forgotten Things all night Tense, and preoccupied Drinking coffee, Nerves fried For what? Breathe? I’ve tried. Tick things off More appear It’s now, I’m here, But not present I’m off in my head. To what end its not clear.
One Day Of Rain
One day of rain And everything had changed Not wanting to complain But seeing nothing was the same I turned to a new page Through milk bottle bottom lenses No longer sure of what I saw I'd misunderstood what was intended knocked to the ground By the ungrateful crowd Who'd booed without a sound I'll count my blessings Say I've learned new lessons Wait for the next rays of human kindness To cure my temporary blindness
The details you’re not seeing.
Catch an elusive moment As a wisp of smoke Grasped between your fingers While on the air afloat A concentrated flavour To taste to feel to savour A satisfying potion To stop time in its motion The tastiest bite of peach Gives way beneath your teeth The darkest chocolate piece Its bittersweet released That moment sun hits skin You feel the place you're in Come on and close your eyes Don’t let this chance slip by The very music of your being Is in the details you’re not seeing.
Early Hours
Unsaid unsung unseen
Such hidden fears play out in the deepest hour of my sleep
On the mind’s eye cinema screen
To leave a lasting daylight question mark
When daylight finally might
Deign to compete with this phone so artificially bright
In my hands a fountain of other scenes to distract from what has not been
Waking in the early hours slowly emerging from a cloying nightmare
Leaving a snail trail of still real-seeming storyline
The phones’ dimmed but still too bright light guides me back
A beacon of real preoccupation to distract
From the lurking fears brought to life in cinematic deep sleep
To the real yet unreal lives of other people
From the half strangers still posting on my feeds
To the real strangers’ Times’ reported deeds
Stories to distract from the dread acted out at night inside my head.
Labour of Love
Do small things with great love Is the key to this philosophy Using kindness and generosity To dedicate efforts consistently To smoothing our way every day In each small action Not token shows of affection Countless small gestures Demonstrate the measure Of a gracious love to treasure Before yourself put others Is the motto of our mothers Finely attuned and attentive Needing no other incentive To better the world where we live.
Making up Me
Memories of my childhood Such as they are Are delicately preserved In a mind warped jar Comprised of scraps Of shards and clippings Of disconnected rememberings Coming home from school Greeted by the promise of gravy-laden food Begging for a taste with bread The sound of the a football match Drifting up from the TV to me in bed Family arriving to visit in the lounge Lingering on the landing to the sounds Of everyone arriving and stowing coats and hats Sure of hugs and exclamations to come after that Jokes over the dining table Helping to clear up Much less than I was able Getting extra credit For helping in the kitchen The best moments The ones spent together preparing A childhood filled with love, with caring. With careful choices and sometimes raised voices. With kisses and terms of endearment And with all the encouragement Needed to feed a growing girl For 18 years this was my world Safe familiar, secure provided for. Not videoed minute by minute No scrapbook with everything in it No Facebook page coming of age No instagram feed No story to read But strands of every memory Making up me.
