Thomas’ Poem

My socks

Are red and blue

They remind me of you

My shorts

Are navy blue

Their battles

Remind me of you

My tee-shirt

Is hooped

White, Breton blue, and green

Their bicycles, their onions

They remind me of you

 

Our Words

Without you here

The silence engages

The ether enriches

It is in the not knowing

That we find our knowing

My Words

I make a sandwich

And think of you

I write a poem

And think of you

I say to myself

This is all getting a little bit

Too much like

Liza Minelli and the Pet Shop Boys

Other’s Words

A year of

Mental health came in

Easing out

With

Expectants leaving

What we expected

Was an exciting weekend

Quick fired words

In a tongue we had ———

A turbulent sea

Our friends no show

Not Yet Qualified

Regular practice

That’s what they said

Always, all of them

And to let go

Don’t hold on

That’s their message

But, as if to be expected

I rallied against them

Followed my own path

And look where it’s got me

At peace, at one

With salt thrown over my shoulder