She was pretty.
Scratch that.
She was beautiful.
Scratch that too.

She was more beautiful,
Than a sunrise on a winter morning.
Or a rainfall on an autumn day
Where the leaves dance in the wind
And fill the sky with life.
More beautiful than a flower
That breaks through the cracks
Of a concrete garden
And brings color to the air.
She was more beautiful,
Than any poem that's ever been written.

She was beautiful.
Scratch that.
She still is.

A fleeting moment, when it was
Death had passed, a sigh in the wind
no sound was made, no sign given
never again to return
he had been the alcoholic driver
the puff of smoke curling off the end of a cigarette
he once was fear of the unknown
an anxiety attack spurned by a gasp for breath
a voice soft spoken, full of love
fear me no more, for I am you
his last words to me
I lost fear of Death
the day Death died

The Optimist

I wish that I could purchase
A paper of good news
Which didn’t love misfortune
Or laugh when people lose
Which didn’t sneak and pry
Or celebrate a lie
Or gossip, steal and scandal
Then revel while we cry

This new paper’s called The Optimist
And you don’t need to buy it
The first issue is free you see
So you will want to try it
‘What is all this?’ the people say
They look slightly bemused
The happiness inside has made them stop
And they’re confused

It’s been a long time since they paused
To think and look around
And see the joy and beauty
Just waiting to be found
Not in the shops or on the box
This joy is something new
Or old that they’d forgotten
But now recognise as true

They hardly dare believe
As they delve inside again
But the stories are all true
And nothing’s awful or profane

Two sisters reunited
After fifty years apart!
A boy who saved a stranger
And that is just the start

Of all the good that’s happened
And your heart’s about to burst
Because people can surprise you
When you don’t expect the worst
The hunger and the vanity
Are swiftly set aside
As something more important grows
Where bitterness resides

And The Optimist begins
So slowly, it’s effect
The hearts and minds of all begin
To thaw and to collect
The sun begins to shine
Like it never has before
And people start to wish and pray
For peace instead of war

And although this paper’s fiction
It may pay to recognise
The Optimist cannot exist
If we don’t open up our eyes

I drank coffee
you drank tea

I sat in the corner
you tried to sit next to me

I said "leave it alone"
you said "make it free"

we were opposites
yet meant to be

We're like the two sides of a penny....

So very close yet we will never see each other...