Sunbathers

The trees on the edge of the field

Watch like an audience,

As the sparrows

Gather and chat incessantly

About the bluebells,

Which have craftily

Picked the best spot

For the lunchtime sun.

Age

The day is so grey

It seems old,

Too old before its time,

For it is only morning;

Or is it only mourning.

Memory

In a dream I remembered her;

Face framed in sunset,

Eyes like shimmering jewels

Swimming up from the depths

Of restless sleep.

Her name was on the tip

Of my tongue until morning;

Remembered: I called her name in earnest,

To an empty room.

Got dressed, went to work,

Her face already fading

Beneath the sheets. 

Bird watching

I sat for hours

At a window mired in January

Rain smudges,

And dreamt silently of you,

Somewhere over a hill

Where you name quietly whispered

Is stolen by angry gales –

- Casual herons peered

Between the rain smudged window,

Laughing at humanities loneliness;

For I had been sad since you left.

Artist

She lay there

Amongst the shades

Of a sunset,

Playing with the knots

In her hair;

In artistic fluency

The shadows

Drew a smile,

So large

That the moon

Was even jealous

About the eclipse she caused

On my swooning heart.

Arbre

I wish I was

A large stretching oak tree -

- Long tuff arms

Naturally engineered

For throwing acorns

At people.

Marilyn

I followed

Chanel No. 5

Into the night;

She walked her

Hips into her dress -

- And intoxicated

I drifted amongst

The thought

Of roses on her lips.

Escape

I wish I could find
Peace from
This world of
Pretentious babbling.
I think
I will run away
And
Live out my days
In the familiar
Solitude of
My mind.

Trees of green

Look at those trees

Amongst the winter sun;

Watch how they dance

And laugh

When the northerly

Wind blows,

And see how

They smile

At the thought of

Spring

That will arrive

In a dream of greens.

Watching

I watched for you
At the long window that
Faced south;

Beyond the glass
And it’s captured lights
The winter night
Glared balefully back,

Later I would
Notice that
The trees
Were hanging
About like prowlers,
And,
Ever fearless,
I charged into the night
Waiting for you by a sycamore,
Both of us longing
For the lushness of spring.

Railroad station

the photographer 1

railroad tracks 3

railroad tracks2

Railroad tracks 1