I fear Winter
for with it intrudes
the loneliness that consumes
as soon as the sun shies away

Rains are god's tears
or ****
or her getting wet
or ___

Memories in change in a pocket full of holes

I grow in
                                   your garden
                                                                                         as you grow in mine

I cry out
in pain
and joy,
how about you

A heart that doesn't beat love
Is nothing
but a woeful hut.

That sinking feeling must mean that it's now Monday,
someday, probably tomorrow, it won't be.

one cup of coffee before I'm off, he
says,
Monday's are always a rush.

I could 'pull a sickie'
but you know
that's not like me,
I'll take the slings and the arrows
and wait 'til the sun goes
down.