Come to my room tonight,
Whisper my name at the door,
I shall answer,
As I did before.

“Yes?” I shall say,
With a beating heart,
And the door will close
As I lie in the dark.

I shall hear the shuffle
Of your feet on the floor,
The rustle of sheets,
As I did before.

Without a word,
You will lie down by my side
I shall not move,
But I shall not hide.

And, in the morning,
As I awake,
Alone in my bed,
My heart shall ache.

Was it real or a dream?
I cannot be sure,
All I know is that I love you,
As I did before.

You showed me the words,
Which I did not ask to read,
Which I needed to read,
Which you needed to show me,
Which I wanted to hear.
Your poems were strangely beautiful,
Beautifully expressed,
Beautifully composed;
They told a story,
A story of hell.

I cannot remember the question,
But I do remember the answer I gave,
Without mercy,
That I had, we had,
Given my own daughter the happiest of childhoods.

Soon you and I shall dance together,
And after, you shall tell another story,
In words and pictures.
A story of a woman and a man;
It will not be strange or beautiful
But normal and safe.

Softly now,
Wish as you whisper,
Wipe away the tears
That drizzle down my cheeks,
You paint in lavender today
Tomorrow in blue, the day after ,
Who knows?
Why I cry?
It is not the colour,
No, it is something else,
It is the pain,
Sudden, like a slap,
That then seeps into my heart,
Squeezing it with kisses.

I sit alone, watching the thin branches shudder
In the breeze,
I look again.
Still. No, they sway, I think,
The petals feed on the fog,
As it puffs and sinks and settles.
All life and death is here -
A blur, a smudge, a shadow, a lick.
I flick a switch and it has gone;
The pain remains,
That beautiful ache in my eyes,
Washed clean so than I can see
The reality of time
Expressed so eloquently
In a moment
That I love.

I look up at your window,
As I pass by.
The shutters are closed,
Blank and white against the western sky.

I look up at your window
But you are not there.
I long to hear your thoughts,
Watch you re-arrange your hair

I look up at your window;
I want it all.
But it is not to be;
We were never meant to fall.

I look up at your window;
Today I see the sky.
I want to stand beside you,
And watch others pass by.

I look out of your window.
You do not ask me why.
I look across the Irish sea.
Where others watch you dry.

I look up at the window;
I see someone in your place.
You have now gone,
Leaving not a trace

I turn away from the window;
The wind of time has blown.
I walk home in silence,
To eat porridge on my own.

Away from you
I feel the past closing in,
Each path leads to memory,
Each road holds all the emotion and energy of my love
For those who have passed
But who gather on the wayside to watch me pass by.
They turn their heads to follow my progress along the route
To the place where we shall all be together again.
For their sake, I hope they do not wait for me
For I am not yet ready
They grow old and cold in the waiting
Whilst I smoulder and grow bolder
In my pursuit of happiness.
I could exist without it
But the fire would not light.
All I need is a spark.
The spark is you.

It is too late to ask me why,
It is too late to say I lied,
It is too late for me to run,
It is too late to blame my mum.

It is too early to say goodbye,
It is too early for me to die,
It is too early in the day,
It is too early for me to say.

It is too hard to explain,
It is too hard to take the blame,
It is too hard for me to cry,
It is too hard for me to try.

It is too easy to run away,
It is too easy for you to stay,
It is too easy to point at me,
It is too easy for me to see.

It is too late,
It is too early,
It is too hard,
It is too easy.

Two toos are two not four,
Four toos are four not eight,
You see, it’s not easy,
It’s just too late.

I am an old man
Who lost his way
Lost the capacity to understand
Built on the foundations of shifting sand

I thought I had won
The battle and the war
But it seemed I had lost
All that I lived for?

So why , why do I whisper
These words in your ear?
What do I expect to achieve
What do I know, what do I believe?

I believe that I know you
I know that I believe
That you will listen to your friend
That this not how it will end.

I thought I had lost
The battle and the war
But I had won
A friend.
And what are friends for?