Blade Cuts

He enjoyed the pub on Friday tea times. All those fine young blades ready for the chancing and the dancing; he was cool, he new he could cut it; he didn't know though, that she could cut it too.

The frost was keen on the fields as steam poured out of the cooling towers; the river cut as a blade through the landscape, going across country from the Humber to the Severn.

He went for the interview in Fairford, with the Jewish gentleman whose father had invented a safety mechanism for helicopter rotor blades. Blades that cut through the air so viscous, so loud. He drank their brandy and smoked their cigars but he couldn't cut it when it counted. He didn't take the job.

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Feelings

The bed was freshly made

Clean white sheets and duvet

He climbs into bed

She finishes her preparations then joins him

They lay apart for a while

He senses something is not quite right

Come close my love

Cuddle up to me

Are you ok

What's the matter

Please tell me

He feels her tears, as her head lays on his chest

What are you thinking about he asks

She sobs

I was thinking about my boy

She sobs

That's ok, you need to keep on loving him he says

You need to let him keep on loving you

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Pillar Talk

You called out to me last night

You were quiet

You were grieving

You called out to me last night

You were sobbing

You scraped your breathing

I called out to you last night

Feel for love

Keep on receiving

I called out to you last night

I am listening

Keep on believing

You called out to me last night

You so gentle

Your tears slow leaving

You called out to me last night

Hold me close

Your faith I'm needing

I called out to you last night

I am here

On your love I'm leaning

I called out to you last night

We are together

We will keep on keeping

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Inspired by Images

Girls and boats and bright blue flowers

Past and present and subliminal powers

Sunrise and sunset and those lost hours

Night and day and the hope that towers

You know where I have been

You know where I am

You know where I go

You know I know of the past 

You know because I let it show

Moments and minutes and days of years

Waiting and waiting and waiting for tears

Memories and reminders and thoughts of fears

Skating and dating and mating to once loud cheers

I don't know where you have been

I don't know where you are

I don't know where you go

I don't know if you know of the past

I don't know because you don't let it show

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Package Tour

I was staying in a B&B on holiday. I had bought some tools at the hardware store on the quay, I told them I would collect them later. I had befriended the elderly son of my landlady; on the final day he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk on the moors, above the reservoir. He shouted at me to come and look at a beautiful pool of water; someone had created an underwater town, with gardens, shops and houses, I thought it was amazing; someone else was present, a woman, but I don't know who it was, I felt her presence more than I saw her. My friend asked me the time of my flight, I looked at my watch, I was late, it was already twelve-thirty. I told my friend we had to go, I would have to leave the tools behind.

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