Month: May 2020

Write for me- something so good that it’s bad,
Something so bloody awful-that it makes me feel better and glad.

Write to me- letters that rhyme,
Letters so long and boring, it will help kill some time.

Talk to me- of mountains and mornings, that were the best you’ve ever seen,
Of beaches and sunsets, so gorgeous- that I’d never believe.

Tell me your stories, and your tales- yellowing and older than the days of yore,
And maybe you could slip in a secret or two, of something you’ve never let slip before.

And then she laughed as she realised, that she had no need for the other,
For what good is an evening- spent talking to a face in the mirror

_V. 19/07/2016

The well’s dry,
The kitchen closed.
A stiff limb sticking out from the floor,
The dirt’s being shovelled away.

There’s a crowd milling around the empty space,
People looking for a familiar face.
Orange cones keep at bay,
Inquisitive faces not going anywhere.

There’s not a word, a cry, an intelligible sound,
The ring breaks, the tension abates,
The faces look away not wanting to turn around.

Another town, another place, in a tiny blue cottage,
There’s a man, his whiskey, and his warm pleasant wife.
Staring into the fire, he mutters:
“He hasn’t called as yet. I hope everything’s ok…”

_V. 22-03-2016