you can pull them out one by one,

they will not grow again.



leaves a gap.



you can pull them out one by one

they will grow back and

fill the gap.

A peaceful harmony filled their steps
Glowing within
Together they spin
Around and around
Like flowers in the wind

tremble is becoming familiar
falling over too

dropping things for some time
ah well could be a lot worse

ageing a kindness
more time given not to everyone.

Sometimes it's the irony,
Of a garage band,
Full of classical instruments.

Such beautiful music,
Played in such an informal way.

But you'll still replay the tape,
Whether or not you like rock,
Because your lover,
Is first chair violin.

flourish fountain of youth
the future is yours
make waves with harmony
throw your pebbles
-into the centre of the pond.

On the backs of
flies
we wait for the
next thing.
Something is
always coming.
A birth or death,
food or hunger
hatred
laughter
love...

Something is always
coming around the
corner.
The Mad Hatter with
mushroom tea.
A strange color of
blue that tastes like
almonds.
A ****** that sparkles
in the night.

Listless mornings
of languid
walks with the
wife in the cool
of the evening.

A knife in the back,
a shark attack,
or maybe, just
possibly, you write
a poem about
waiting for the
next thing.