what did i give
what do i have to give
is my not letting go
your way
of having me let go
are my repetitive words
troublesome
do my escapist thoughts
leave you altogether underwhelmed
what did we have
that it cannot be recovered
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
what did i give
what do i have to give
is my not letting go
your way
of having me let go
are my repetitive words
troublesome
do my escapist thoughts
leave you altogether underwhelmed
what did we have
that it cannot be recovered
you gift me your anxiety
in couplets
and triptychs
you gift me your love
through echoes
and vibrations
you are simply being
in the beautiful truth
beyond explanations
yours is the mantra
which continues
to chime repeatedly
why was their son
given his mother’s
maiden name
how did his father
let go so so easily
of his inheritance
do we need to know
the moment of conception
amidst their journey of love
the story will follow
the line of the curve
of natural dispersion
of growth and decay
each chapter
may have its own curve
with show and tell
exposed in equal measure
part history
part psychology
part psychotherapy
mostly insight for examination
there will be moods
also opportunities
for resolution
and absolutely there will be love
alone
in the quiet space
i am quite able
to sensibly and sensitively forget
to faultlessly and figuratively remember
white clouds
black clouds
blue skies and sunshine
raindrops
snowflakes
walks on open moorland
alone
in the dark space
i am more than able
to independently and together share
also to liminally and lovingly just be