the hour glass in your mind
the falling sand
silently marks off the time.

We no longer know what to say,
we only touch,
when you feel right,
and it is convenient

I don't hold your attention anymore
how do I know I still hold your heart?

You no longer rush to welcome me home,
you never dress up for me anymore,
the twinkle in your eyes don't dance
at the sight of me the same way

the ink splattered on the paper,
no longer takes the shape of my name

And oh, I remember how it used to be
I was in your embrace so often,
you would let your love take me high,
any time you felt I was feeling low

and, oh, you could read me so well
you knew what I wanted
way before my brain had it acknowledged

Oh, what once was, and the used to be's,
will never be, not in the same way again,
look at yourself too,
could you honestly say you're still the same?

and you were so familiar to me,
i could see your emotions display on your face
the stolen glances, the silence
I could decipher them so well

you would say "sweetie, it's all in your head"
but the soft pecks on my cheeks,
mean nothing more than a formality

but I still love you the same,
tell me I'm still the one,
tell me for you, there could never be anyone else

**and I don't know if I can take a step,
without you over-looking into it,
I feel myself suffocating,
under the memories of all the glorious used to be's

but I still love you the same, baby girl
and I would show you, if you'd only let me.
tell me
that it is not too late for us yet, please.

our small island is wind smashed wring wrung washed by rain and tide tossed headlong into the stars, spun around come up for air,
we snuggle in, seen it all before.

from my perch by the window I can see the southern headland of the Isle of Flotta rising from the sea. A black shape across the deep anchorage afforded by Scapa Flow. There is a tall chimney, just out of sight, we call "the flame of Flotta" , that burns off all the unwanted gasses from the oil refinery. That industrial landscape is also out of my line of sight. I would have to travel to the north of our island to be able to spy it nestling there across the sound. Flotta is our nearest neighbour. I have never been there. But some of our ferries call at the harbour to pick up passengers going to and from the Main Isle. This is as close as I have been. The flame burns bright orange through the night like a great angry dragon. The massive ships awaiting their cargo of oil lay sedentary at anchor. When winter comes they will have to sail through some of the most dangerous waters in the World. Death out there is an ever present danger. Someone dies every year.

some peeled off, and married
many died in car wrecks
battle took some
one just outside the front door, laying there all night
one of blood disease at eleven
one given the wrong injection
one playing Russian roulette
more than one injected their own deadly cocktail
at least two from heart attacks
others dropping dead from brain explosions
cancer has taken quite a few
suicide has overtaken more than I care to count
some old age caught up with them
Friends all dead. RIP.

Still trying to find
The pieces of you
That you left behind
Inside of me

I have become blind
Or your pieces have intertwined
And melted with mine

Maybe by autumn
the pieces will unbind  
All will be forgotten
and left behind

If only it was that simple
for here it is always summer