.

*Reaching out,
searching for a touch
in the darkness,
when alarm clocks call
beyond fitted sheets
and flattened pillow nightmares

Measured steps
through open doors,
feed empty hallways
in night light silhouettes
as destined worries
wait in the corners in plain sight

Hoping again
for a sunny day
on a dreary gray morning
finding the coffee hot
though with a bitter taste of despair
sipping between tear drop ripples

This heart
beats so lonely, slowly
my thoughts echo through barren rooms,
returning to my mind
as eyes stare out of
frost glazed windows

at a world
moving about in altered fashion
blind to the pain that washes
down the existence I carve
in silent shadows
longing for only her

A  pheasant  is  strutting
around  my  garden  today.

He's  a  very  beautiful  bird
and  he  knows  it.

Strutting  around  as  if
he's  the  king.

Calling  out  now  and  again
disregarding  all  the  other  birds.

I  must  be  close  to  nature
with  him  in  the  garden.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

How  do  the  tourist's
know  I'm  local.
They  are  always  stopping  me.
And  asking  the  way  to  the  lake.
Perhaps  It's  because
I'm  walking  on  my  own.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

The  large  Ash  tree  in  my  garden.
I  thought  it  was  dead.
I  told  everyone  it  was  dead.
Now  It's  suddenly  sprang  to  life.
Very  late  though  nearly  end  of  May.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.