The old lady

The creases in her face

Smiled like

Time worn

Roads of life’s

Knowledge,

While her eyes

(Milky pearls)

Threaded barefoot

Through

The honeyed

Echoes of her life;

Greeting me with

A smile on

Tired lips,

She remembered me

From stretching

Memories of yesterday.

Morgan's Point

On Sunday,

I drove to

Morgan’s Point,

Following Main Street

And the smell of antiquities

Along a winding road

Where houses

Out did each other

And sailed loftily

Amongst summer greens;

Mail boxes hung

Forlorn heads

Amongst green

And brown Maples,

While I slowly listened

To the dim hum

Of tyres

And watched the sky

As it paled with blue sadness.

You drove with

Your lipstick

Creased in silence

On your mouth

And a dream

Caught steadily in your eyes;

While I,

Shadows on my mind

Would remember you

In roses,

Bright yellow roses

Singing softly on the back seat

Of your car.

Morning in Seabrook

At dawn,

The pigeons gathered

On washing lines

Like an audience

At the opera,

While a slow crimson

Wind chased

The last of the night

Into the Gulf;

Waiting somnolently

They watched the shadows

That danced amongst the ferns,

And the morning parade

Of sea gulls that

Loomed overhead

Like Lancaster bombers;

When the sun arrived

Like a monument

They flew south

Toward Galveston,

Chasing circles

And the

Breakfast boulevards,

Crying and screaming

Like a dawn chorus

In the Texas morning.

Heathrow (terminal 5)

From the viewing gallery

I watched people

Lost in their

Flight connecting worlds

Aimlessly wander

From gate to gate

From toilet to bar-

-To Harrods

To transit

To pray

To shuffle

In all colours

And clothes

Through passport control

To hobble off

To destinations

Far and wide

All so quickly forgotten;

While I,

Soon tired of my voyeurism

Sauntered off to a Japanese bar

For an English breakfast

Served by a man

From Turkey. 

Waiting for a train.

The City

We watched the cars

Drive away,

Tail lights moving like

A river of red,

Harbouring the architects

Of children

Who would forever

Forget their past.

City lights

Humming and twinkling

Into a new wave frenzy

And stale people

Existing with lost futures;

Silent boulevards

Of the neon reds

Are full of empty humans

Who sell their lives,

In a city

That is grey with life.

The future is bright

The future is black and white. 

The thought of you

When I miss you                              

The most

I play our song

On my bodacious violin

And sip fine wine

Next to cautious

Memories of your smile;

I open all the windows

And

Let the music float

Seductively into the sky,

With the pigeons

And the sparrows,

Who occasionally

Whistle and squawk

Along with my G clefs

And rhythmic chords

Like an abrasive

Orchestra;

Oh the very thought of you.

Oak Tree blues

October tumbled into November

And brown leaves

Wilted, damp and derelict

Loafed idly beneath trees

That stretched naked

Amongst the rich

Sweet floral,

Of the winter Jasmine.

Oak trees cried

Slow tears

Of brown and orange,

That permeated

A scent of watery fruit

And lavender -

- Dreaming of spring,

And prodding the

Neighbouring birch trees

With cumbersome boughs

Like an errant brother.

You had me at hello

I want to be infected

With your smile

And tainted with

Your long red kisses -

- I want to listen

To the sweet hum

Of your voice

And feel your heart

Play soft music

On my face -

- Sweet elixir

 That you are,

My only hope

Of life’s redemption

Is to dissolve into

 The windows

Of your soul.