The temple bell stops -
but the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers.

Matsuo Basho

I wish
I had known
it was then
brain-fog
just for a moment
the opportunity
was lost

the right words
I failed to speak
(she was waiting
in such great expectation
with her I lost eye-contact

then she said:
'The wind
is brewing strong
I must leave
in case it were
to break
into a storm'
( a quick glimpse
of her I took
in her eyes
there was a tiny teardrop)-

evening was setting in
into the fading light
she walked
I couldn't find
the words to say-
my heart grievously broke!

Your eyes seem aimless
I wonder if you feel the
Cement in your soles

When winter came with blankets of mist
A cover of cloud through the day
Skies would stretch in endless grey
No dancing rays of an ochre sun
Then, what comfort and sweet bliss -
Was a cup of tea with cinnamon.

All wrapped in scarf, cap and mitts
Warming hands and toasting toes
Singing rhymes or talking prose
We'd whisper tales that winter spun
Tucked at night in layered quilt -
With a cup of tea with cinnamon.

With happiness, memories sing
Of smiles of youth that teased the cold
Battled wars that could be won -
To gloat in glory when grey and old
Oh, what comfort it still brings -
That cup of tea with cinnamon

A walk
to ponder the nature of it all
sea and sky,
the tumbling waves which fall
gulls that call on outstretched wings
none of these are separate things