Feel sand through fingers flowing

Sandals, stepping softly; impressions on the land

Seashells, washing softly; crustaceans in the sand

Lovers, walking softly; footsteps of the brand

Brass bands, jazz quartets; Shakespeare’s in the park

Wind sail, skateboard trail; winter’s dunes and dales

Sands, parks, love after dark; hands held at sunrise

Emotions

Seeping softly

Emotions

Feel sand through fingers flowing

Emotions flowing to the land

Memories

Keeping softly

Memories

Feel to command, sparkle glints glowing,

Memories glowing bright and grand

Strangers

Parting softly

Strangers

Feel sand, washed up

Strangers, washed up by the brand

Sandals, leaving softly; depressions on the land

Seashells, crushing; crusted crustaceans stand

Lovers talk not softly, lover’s step’s unplanned

Brass lands, of ports and quartz

Shakespeare’s sister, blisters in the dark

Wind hail, broken rail; winter’s tale, of time and pail

Slander, snark, smothered by dark, hands open to fail

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No late night conversation

I don’t know what your idea of friendship means

I don’t know if being your best friend is what it seems

So I’ll try and dissect your words

Through my mind, if remembered they may reverb

You don’t want anything to do with being a couple

That solid statement’s forward, that’s not too subtle

You thought about counselling, decided too tired

You worked through options, except the lad I sired

You want for him to have a full parenting picture

You think it’s weak, not strong, to let me, let him be

You say; If we don’t have some contact with our boy

We’ll lose what matters, and then there’ll be no joy

So what does it mean exactly; best friend status

Do we progress, or second-guess our own hiatus

I felt clearer, although the cost was dearer

When we parted, not started, getting nearer

I can live with the parting glimpses of anger

Recollecting and putting blame, lapsing into languor

I think it is best, to not, not vocalise my thoughts

They may be off beam, for I am, I am out of sorts

Yet I don’t want to look forward, too many days away

Thinking friendship means love, with a body sway

I don’t want to waste any more years thinking it’s OK

No real understanding, not to understand as we say

When clearly it’s not so, for instance do you know

How you intend to befriend, or turn to love or no

If we don’t find out shortly, no use to pretend

Our loving, our friendship will both come to an end

No cards, no notes no late night conversation

It’s a funny kind of friendship without communication

There is no time left anywhere for making love

We do things that lovers aren’t ever dreamt to do

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Wobble

Wobbly

Strong cigarettes

Extremely cold water

Stiff, stiff drink

Touching your hand

Trembling

In sinking sand

Wobbly

One last time

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Spivs and drones

Spivs and drones

And semitones

Baronets and earls

Nylons for the girls

Spivs and drones

Baronets and semitones

Communists and squatters

Prefabs for the potters

Spivs and drones

Communists and semitones

Veterans and conscripts

Vouchers for the tit bits

Spivs and drones

Veterans and semitones

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Winking twinkling

Trinkets trickling, sprinkling

Winking twinkling

Fascinated by:

Imaginary days

Supersonic rays

Polished teak inlays

Roads to Mandalay

Sunlight through the maize

Winkles, twinkle toes

Sprinkle, tinkle trinkets

Captivated by:

Golden rose

Clothes to pose

Cerebral cerebrovascular

Vernacular

Spatial spectacular

Sunlight through the days

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