and there you are
walking into another lost dream
your whispers and gentle smile
touching the memories  
I hold dear

like the dream
our time was brief
you turn and walk away as you did
40 years ago
you wanted more from me
another day
another week
and perhaps I would have realized
that I truly loved you
but we know how cruel time can be
and I let you go

I awaken to your image
fading quickly
and I decide to find you
maybe to ask forgiveness
maybe to beg

but I am too late
and you have left me
only to be found
in my dreams
in my sorrow

Hi there all you youthful souls
Chase your dreams, reach your goals
Just remember I am always here
So far away yet so very near.

So go your way, do your thing
But if you get lost give me a ring
I am here any time of day
I will listen to what you say.

The days of youth are on your side
But the coming years will pass you by
So carry on, live your life
I hope one day you see the light.

This is your time, you have your space
Your chance is here don't hesitate
Life on this earth can be unkind
And that's one thing you'll find out in time.

I have had my say, I will say no more
It's down to you so please explore
Carry on, and do your thing
But if you get lost give me a ring.

A clear, cool night. I have been reading,
    but the thoughts of man do not solace me.
I raised the curtain and looked at the moon,
    clear and silvery; and I brushed
    some of the unrest out of my mind.
I know all the theories of the moon.
    There have been times when the symbols
    of science have robbed me of some of its
    mystery and charm
But no one can explain the moon any
    more than a grasshopper can explain me.
In youth, the moon promised too much.
    But now I understand better; that was not
    the moon's fault.
Also the moon and I have this in common:
    we both are wanderers across the night.

poppies and chamomile bloomed roads,
covered in warm dust... such a pity
that these are the only ones left
to be pointing towards the eternal city,

where marble and stone still stand
on places gods used to walk bare-footed,
where belief was more than just demand,
until cassocks have had ancient ways sooted.

A place where manner was turned into art
And polymaths emerged from genius creation,
where Latin blood spills from heart to mart
In a continuous state of vibrant elation.

where green is the colour of oils and lust
and the sun can burn to a lemon flavour,
and the sand on the front of the boot is black
and the wine is more than a bitter-sweet savour...

There, where a walk through square paved markets
is bursting with hand-made stories,
where scratching through history's pride
would always end in timeless glory...

The Last Day

When he comes for me
I will argue with the man in black
Open a bottle of wine.
When he tells me to hurry I will ignore him
I will open a tin of tunny fish
Never drink on empty stomach.
I will walk to my funeral
Criticise the flower arrangement  
Give the last orders burp and die.