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Wednesday, 25 March 2015

39

I am alone for a while
I smile into the log fire
Pleased, that folks somewhere
Care for the photos I have posted

If I could play the piano
I would play Ben Fold's The Luckiest
Not that I could sing along
For singing is not my strong suit either

I am not alone anymore
Joined by someone moving boxes
Beginning the tidying, on a Sunday
For visitors arriving, on Thursday


Tuesday, 24 March 2015

38

He, the she part of him
Held the strawberries
In the palm of his hand

She, the he part of her
Washed blueberries
In the sparkling stream

He and she
The she and he part of them
Knelt on the spring grass

She and he
The he and she part of them
Stepped on stepping stones

In the palm of their hands
In the sparkling stream
Eating blueberries and strawberries

They stepped on stepping stones
Knelt on meadow grass
Eating strawberries and blueberries


Monday, 23 March 2015

37

To do no more than sit and write
Let my mind fight what it feels it needs to fight
Always knowing, not what's right
But that nothing need be kept from sight
That whenever I wish to shine the light
The tightness will try to keep it tight
As nighttime falls into blue-black night
That bright day no longer bright
With such decay that I just might
Distill the darkness with sheer insight
Show my mettle, fight my fight
As with my mother I'll fly my kite
Share our love, forego our plight


Sunday, 22 March 2015

36

I drive into the mist
The trees, bare of leaf, float trunkless
Lyle Lovett's music bares my lustful mind
I have, I feel, the touch of thigh on thigh
All of that time of life saddled in one momentous rush
That I shouldn't have wanted to say anything more
All of the lusciousness already self-fulfilling the score
But believe me he says, slowly opening the ever open door
Out there, laid out in nature, the true lovers are sharing the floor
I have, I feel, the touch of skin on skin
All of that time of life, grappled in one momentous crush
Hands under warm armpits, hands over warm breasts
If ever you would wonder you would wonder the rest
Clothes straddled on the floor, beauty banging my chest
Lost lovers loving in the afternoon, whatever's next

I drive into the light
The sky, scare of clouds, float weightless
Eva Cassidy's music scares you and your less trustful kind


Saturday, 21 March 2015

35

Contemplation time
As time called by to ask me
Why not walk out
Why not watch the sunrise
Why not sit in the garden
The why not and the why
All a matter of calculation
All a matter of pounds shillings and pence
All a matter of listening to the music
Then to walk the street as Arturo Bandini
Shuffle feet in the dust
Ruffle feathers as you must
Muffled against the upper crust
Daring to be just as unjust
He opened the door
Waved to his dear lady arriving
Together they popped the corks
Of quite ordinary champagne
Why not the way
As time called by
Along contemplation line