she was velvet in a field of velvet
sage blue before the sunrise

she was satin in a sea of skin
sage green when the sun hangs high

there is thunder in the distance
heavy with salt, taste like your lips

it faintly rumbles remembrance  
sorrowful rolling sound

plums of Java crash onto our roof
knocking, then rolling to arrêt

was their taste so sour?
can you remember such bitter things?

did their sound disturb your sleep?
honey, dear, forgive the fruit without wings

do you remember how full our garden was?
how tall our dill did grow?

the palms we wrapped with christmas lights
to share our tropical glow?

is my name no longer spoken?
are there letters you refuse to read?

be sage before the sunrise
become sage blue again

i hear the thunder calling
it brings back tears instead.

what days are these
when we sit to ponder
lifes big and small mysteries
with tea brewing
in the ***
and biscuits crumbling
in our hands

we sit and watch
the colour leach
from trees
and grass wither
underfoot

we gather
old clothes and blankets
to give to those
whose houses
are sky and ground
whose airconditioning
is frost and wind

we dread the winter's
count and the summers
harvest of those elderly
left frozen and unfound

some lose just little bits
who needs fingers and toes
some lose more and more again
we puase to remind ourselves
a life is a life no matter the choice
of the living....there is a purpose
to be found in each soul set upon
the ground

so we gather small comforts
to be bestowed on those
who live harder and meaner than
ourselves  and then sit in front
of roaring fires and suppose
our good deeds become us

yet we have treated but a symptom
of the cancer that is fed by greed
we have tried to answer need
but while we give a pittance
with one hand, the larger
beings of this land,
take with both, leaving
nothing but grist and sand
and lives with little
have a little less

it is hard to live
on crumbs

harder still
when the
big end
of town
is blind
and numb

to those who
are suffering
they do not see
the social buffering
blinkers their sight
and so continues
the cycle

whilst blankets and swags
and soup kitchens  all help
something more is needed
to bring the homeless, home

the leaves are pretty this year

Every time I say "goodbye",
my chest aches and I feel hopeless.
Will I ever see you again?
Was this even worth all the pain?

As I think of our journey together,
my head fills with regret;
while my heart feels empty and heavy.
I almost forget how to breathe.

In the end I know it was worth the fight,
but why does such a wonderful ride have to hurt so much?
I trust that life will bring us together again,
but my doubt leaves me with sorrowful sighs.