This tabloid I hold impulsively bought
from the newspaper kiosk so as not to get bored
through tedium or languor... to ponder or browse
and while away time, shunning the world
as I stand in the queue, clutching my fare
and wait by the stop... in the rain.

I accept a brief grunt and nod of the head
[ begrudgingly sought ] from the stranger I see
five days of the week and clench my teeth
as he stands by my side, peering over my shoulder
and consumes the newspaper though it were his own,
in my mind I imagine him thumbing the pages.

Then looking up I impatiently mutter
and glance at the time with utter frustration,
I close the newspaper [ with smug satisfaction ]
and fold in my pocket, all dog-eared and damp
[ much like myself ] as I stand at the stop
and wait for the bus... to go home.**

...   ...   ...

The present, a pebble on the riverbank,
the water, relentless it flows by ...
the pebble ... laying at the waters edge,
the future, flows past through history.**

...   ...   ...

Your radiance shines like a beacon
your virtue, my guiding light
your eyes so bright they sparkle
your laughter bursts out with delight.

Your smile is filled with excitement
your humour, impulsive and sweet
your face, exquisite and glowing
your form, a heavenly treat.

Your flamboyance, attractive and stunning
your deportment, imposing and chic
your poise with finesse is polished, and
your charisma is filled with mystique.

Your allegiance, unswerving and loyal
your elegance, resplendant in grace
your friendship, a lifetime of sunshine
your complexion, the finest silk lace.

Your goodness, adorned in splendour
your kindness goes on and on
your presence is charming and gracious
your carriage is that of a swan.

My esteem for you is boundless
my admiration is yours to the end
my heart is filled to bursting, and
I thank you for being my friend.**

...   ...   ...

You have laughing eyes today
full of happy things, filled with smiles
with no thought of time ahead
with no other care,
but now.

Yesterday with sadness filled
lost in thought and distant dreaming
of faraway places, of make-believe
what look in your eyes,
will tomorrow bring.

...   ...   ...

The sign that read 'Room To Let'
hanging in the window of my heart
was removed from the pane, long ago
and discarded, was thrown in the rain.

For if ever to flee from the vacancy you filled
then derelict I'd lay
stone by stone torn away
for you are the cement of my heart.

But if stay you would, and tenancy take up
the key to my heart would you own
and with love would I paint, and decorate
the room that is yours in my heart.

Title deeds to my love would I also transfer
complete with all fixtures and fittings
for the property you'd own is fully furnished my love
no longer so lonely and cold.

With central heating installed, double glazed wall by wall
in my heart you'd be cozy and warm
wrapped safe from the world, in the womb of my heart
adorned with contentment and love.  

Only then would you truly own my heart
my own no longer more
the most precious gift that I possess
please take, and hold it with care.

It's given quite freely
with my blessing and consent
a freehold property
handed over, all legal and meant.**

...   ...   ...

Your mother bloomed as rose blossom
with a smile so serene for all to see
as only possessed by a mum in the making
before in this world you ventured forth.

With lifes mystery within her gaze
and emotions that make a woman complete
two people in one , for nine month were you
carried in safety and comfort and warmth.

Then petite hands for security clung
when ambrose and warmth were all that you knew
rosebud lips at the breast for comfort would nuzzle
a pearl in the shell of an imperfect world.

You are as you grow at your mothers side
hers you are to watch over and guide
the mistakes of a child she knows you will make
to admonish with love, only she may chide.

And when you are troubled your mother is there
to fight and defend every step of the way
and will share with you times, happy and sad
your best friend she will ever remain.

For until her feathered nest you leave
a bed you have to curl up warm
all you recieve from your mother is given
you're still carried within her womb called home.**

...   ...   ...

As the finest champagne, aged to perfection
lips so sweet, as the fruit from that region
exquisitely formed, from the vine she flowered
in bloom was she born, in a very good year.**

...   ...   ...