Have you ever looked at the sky?
Have you ever asked why?
Can you remember the last time
                 You cried?
People come and go
You need to know
It’s for a reason
Whenever I feel sad
              I thank the sky
Have you ever asked why?
Up above an abundance of love
              It grows and grows
Where ever you decide to go
Can you remember the last time
              You cried?
Did you ever wonder why?
You need to know
    Where ever you go
Up above there is love
Have you ever looked at the sky?
Can you remember why?

Who is a poet,
without their pen?
Our existence is on the page-
it is the stories in our head
and the words in our heart.

I pick up the pen
and I write
because I need
to bleed my emotions
on paper and sometimes I
write
just for the hell of it and sometimes
I write because I just need
to talk to someone anyone
I just need to talk.

black skies stretch
in darkness, the clouds
dissolve into rain,
the night is lacquered
with varnish like
a wooden floor,
shiny and surreal -

it breathes of night
bird and the magnolia
light of the moon, quivers
and then is still, wraps us
in the mirrored waters of the stars.

the moon elevates
the night from darkness to
hypnotic light, bathes
the world in silver, flows
with our tears and our
softly spoken words,

transcends like lazarus
to a sky witnessed
through centuries,
loved and worn like
our favourite old clothes.