the trees whispering
in the wind

hooves thundering across the meadow.

on my arm
your touch is a warm breeze

in your eyes
I see the horses running

the x wife calls
tells me the children miss me.
her voice
a mirror of broken glass
fragments falling into
the touch of sadness
from her fingers
the soft laughter
of her eyes like a candle
in the night

tonight
twilight comes to play
whispering in my night
quick as life
I hear the sadness
quick as life
I can hear the regret

I 've wounded you

I can only be
what I was
meant to be

I am the candle without the wick

excuse me, i tell her, i've got to go.

she walks prospect avenue in the rain.
dead eyes, sore feet
the flowers have wilted into
the shadows of acceptance.

she finds the corner
and the last light lit,
wants a match for her cigarette.

a ****** that has found her god.
a needle and a bed of thorns.


the beep from a car's horn,
so a customer waits,
swings open a rusty gate.

and when that door

slams

shut

the prisoner of light asks,

"where have all the flowers gone?

Fling wide the curtains
kettle on and set the table
open the door in welcome
spring is just around the corner
she apologises for being late
winter kept her talking

the winter's first love was spring,
but they lost each other in the fires of July.

after some time,
they became friends

forever