How many hours to Tulsa?
not as many as it is to the toaster
and that's where I'm heading to
put some bread in.

Breakfast
with a cuppa,
I wonder if Jesus
had a cuppa after
the last supper?
probably not.

It is as it is
and was
was a long time ago,
I know
because I was there.

without you so late
I come to the maze alone

to the centre to find
our creature

alone & tired of waiting
turned to stone       (copyright of Kate)

Mine:

A moment frozen
alone and lost was I
my heart was silent
as the minutes ticked swiftly by

the hour was late
even weary was the evening sky
I have no cause to celebrate
more reason for me to cry

Old age has its  merits
silent and mellow
youth was boastful of its high-point
but only folly did it show

life is the progression
of seasons-- time has to flow
let's live with no regret
nothing is worth the throe of woe.

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝...
𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢...

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎...
𝙸𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑...

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝...
𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚜...

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛...
𝙸𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍, 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚠...

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑...
𝙰 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜...!

The seashore of life
is no place to look for treasures
here is but sand and pebbles
tide-battered shells
fragments of mussels
sunbaked seaweeds
fallen leaves, broken twigs
shreds of seared branches
and strange enough
even torn pages
of castaway
goodbye love-letters


a witness
to time's history
and its ravages
a testament of
mankind's sad
and silent chapters

if you should walk by
in the dead of night
you would hear
it singing the dirge
of unfulfilled lovers

of perished dreams
of sunken hopes
of painful despairs
in bitter sobs
and muted whispers

feel, oh feel well
the pulse of its melancholy
listen, oh listen
to its wild heart-beats
in wild tremours
imagine, oh image
how it howls
in its raging tempers

enquire, oh enquire
where it nestles

its home is none other
than the deluge
of the tattered heart-
the most tearful metaphor
of all known metaphors.

It's okay...
It's alright...
sleep my child
you'll be just fine...
just close your eyes
and sleep my child
escape the pain
for just a little while
i know its hard-
hard to believe
that its okay
to fall asleep
i know you're scared
that if you close your eyes
it'll be your fault
when someone dies
but you're not the reason
it wasn't your fault
but you can't keep them alive
with water and salt
so sleep my child
i'll hold you near
things will get better...
just trust me my dear