Please make me stay,
why should we say, Goodbye?
Open up your heart, give love another try.
Don't close the door,
don't let it die.
Please make me stay,
we're running out of time.

Didn't I make you smile,
more than I made you cry?
Didn't I bring you pleasure?
I can still hear your sighs!
I'm running out of reasons,
I'm running out of rhymes.

Please make me stay,
why should we say, Goodbye?
Open up your heart, give love another try.
Don't close the door,
don't let it die.
Please make me stay,
we're running out of time.

Don't you know my heart breaks,
just the same as you.
Don't you know I feel pain,
in the same way too?
I'm running out of words,
we're running out of time

Please make me stay,
Please make me stay.
Don't close the door,
don't let it die.
Please make me stay,
we're running out of time.
we're running out of time.

Don't let our love run out of time.
Out of time
out of time
out of time

I have never
ever been a skylarker,
have you?
I think it would take
a bit of engineering
to come up with a gimmick or two.
I believe the term, rather, is skylarking
but I wonder if it can become a title too?
Or a role,
like the Joker or the Prankster
or is it just whimsical fun?
requiring no skill or gumption.

It prompts me to ponder
alternate universes
or realities;
other paths
my life could have taken —

Would I have been
wonder woman
wild on a stand-up stage?

A doctor,
or a nurse?
Breaking off death's curse!

Could I have been
a circus performer
Or would that have
concluded in a hearse?

I will stick, for now,
with poetry, and prayers,
and promises of life beyond how —
that's a trick worth playing!

Slow us
Lord, that we watch our ways
And about turn
To Your face.

Loose curls —
found scattered throughout 
my house
DNA traces —
Declaring existence
Beyond these poems;
Manifestations.
And fleeting interactions
In tight and wide-open 
Spaces.

seeking,
slicing,
selfies,
'ice-ing,'
the 'Golden Age' is gone.

weeping,
swiping,
exhibiting galore,
pricelessness pawned
for ****.

texting,
sexting,
'Brexiting'
'****'ing,
endlessly searching for that score.

the jungle was out there,
but now it is in the norm.

Slices through heat 
Similar to "Singer" sewing scissors on lace
Destabilising --
Equilibrium 
With a casual, cool, calm, collectedness,
As if nothing could 
Pierce its particles;
Ruffle its feathers,
Unsync its code.

I want that feeling
that thrill;
Where my heart flutters
And my voice lifts in exultation;
a climactic shrill!
Is this fleeting?
Or is this real?
Is this my heart dreaming
Or is my desire the ideal?

I always feel
like I am behind.
Like everyone else knows
The secret, or look at me
with those kind, sad eyes...
"You'll get there, honey...
in 10 years' time."

Okay, so maybe
I am a little beyond.
I come to things so **** late.
But at least I own my mind.

I choose my way!
Even if it's a pebbled path in the desert...
That goes round and round,
and round in circles so things aren't unlearned.

But when I look up;
take my nose out of a book,
I see that I am still reading Jane Eyre
other than cinematic thrillers with never-ending hooks.

Even today,
As I ponder this profound?
thought, I make sure I slurp coffee, [yay!!]
observe with all my senses, surround...

The coffee dripped
Into my mouth,
little droplets of life;
The rich, dark roast
Layered my tongue
Like velvet;
So sensual —
I could wrap it around my shoulders like
Helen’s, my Nan, foxy-red fur coat,
From the 1920’s and 30’s,
I am back there with her now —
With each drip,
And the zoot, zoot, zip
Of the trumpet
Bleating out
As dancers flapped about.