Dare I touch, with my eyes
caress, with my smile
embrace within a loving heart
tarry now, please stay awhile.**

...   ...   ...

One double measure, filled with spirit
gentle hands touching, embracing the glass
upon softest lips, raising the nectar
toasting each other ... now empty ... alas.**

...   ...   ...

The Christmas tree resplendent, decked in magnificence
where peeping out from underneath, bought with benevolence
were gifts, keeping occupied, excited little fingers
the best so far, a wind up car, the worst, two woolly jumpers.

The aroma from the kitchen, kept wafting through the door
with greedy tum' a-rumbling, ( there's more presents to explore )
the table set in splendour, upon that festive day
the brilliance of the cutlery, displayed in bright array.

Crispy roast potatoes, Christmas ******* by each plate
brussel sprouts and chestnuts, ( our dinner guests were late )
roast pork and juicy crack-a-ling, fresh stewing apple sauce
sage and onion stuffing *****, were all for our main course.

Unwrapped and sat a-steaming, and crowned with holly leaves
Christmas pud' and brandy sauce, stared at with disbelief,
tangerines and nuts to shell, dried fruit and pre-****** dates
and then... as a special treat, dark chocolate 'After Eights'.

Much later still, before bedtime, clothes filled with corpulence
my little belt let out a notch, to ease circumference
and then to bed, much over fed, with dreams of clockwork toys
of Boxing day, of games to play, of Christmas filled with joy.*

...   ...   ...

'trademark'

My eyes, the size of saucers
every time I look at you
but when you were in your bikini
the size of my eyes just grew.**

...   ...   ...

More perfect than a golden dawn upon a perfect day,
my love is light personified, she drives the night away.

Towering before all to show my love for her,
one island standing fast, against waves of tempestuous seas.

Yet oft' I sit as a small and bashful child before her feet,
a mischievous twinkle in my eyes, a smile upon my face.

Gaining strength to patiently bide, until the time when next we meet,
never daring to hope, to dream, yet I do and weep.

And willingly would I wait, ten thousand years and more,
for just one tender smile.

For without this lady, I am nothing,
and would rather be as dust, than be with any other.

For she has the sweetest face, more angelic by far,
and before her, all other beauty pales, to insignificance.

A more proud and noble woman there could never be,
she is my heart, and in my mind lives constantly.

So this romance for me I pray, will never die,
for with adoration, do I kneel before, and worship her.**

...   ...   ...

Rows of stone houses, all back-to-back
lined by the side of streets cobble set
housewives with shopping, segs in their heels
clopping down ginnels with ringing footsteps.

Cast iron lampposts, corporation green
daily were reset by clockwork it seemed
casting more shadow than light which to see
brimstone edged steps, scrubbed 'elbow' clean.

Sweeps on their rounds, in Summer would rush
cleaning the flues with rods and brush
kids in the street, staring in wonder
at soot snowing flurries, from porcupine pots.

Nutty slack in the grate, drawn by the pan
coal smoking stacks, pouring out grime
creels of damp washing, stealing the flame
when years end smog, jaundiced the sky.

A trip to the 'flicks', Saturday morning
'thrupence' for best seats, 'top-a-the-stalls'
rounds of cheers as good-un's were chasing
the bad-un's were boo'd, soon to be caught.

In 'wellies an scruff,' we went to the 'flea-pit'
with 'ha-peth o' cheap spice', soothing the throat
food for thought, all week long
and played them all, the films we saw.

Cowboys and Indians, cap guns held high
annoying the neighbours, 'bye it were grand'
riding the range on imaginary horses
best we ride on, with slap of the hand.

'Play in yer own street', my recallection
and 'geer off mi steps, they've jus-bin-swilled'
yet still we 'mucked out' with die-cast toys
against the 'midden', and on the walls.

No more adventure, making own fun
young-un's today don't know how it's done
cartoon and serial, games of war
we'd launch to the moon, upon the see-saw.**

...   ...   ...

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.**

...   ...   ...

'Just called in passing, to see you'
a walk down memory lane
needed to prove my sanity
wanted to ease the pain.

'Just on my way to the Chemist you see
to hand over my Doctors note
It's quite a long list he prescribed me
look ... it's here in my duffle-coat'.

'Just heard you'd moved back in the area
someone had mentioned to me
you live on the way to the Chemist ...
yes, a nice part of town, I agree'.

'Just so lovely to see you in these parts again
you've been missed by all, I can tell
if only I'd known you were coming back
I'd have helped you move in as well'.

'Just after my Doctors appointment
I call in for my daily coffee
we must do it together at some point
and go out for afternoon tea'.

'Just for old times sake, no strings attached
they've just opened new tearooms you know
we could recall the good times ... well
perhaps some other time you'll go'.

'Goodbye'**

...   ...   ...

You captured my heart, I admit it
caught in your spell, I'm bewitched
I reached out my hand and you held it
adrift, lost at sea, I was saved.

My gaze you enslaved, and I love it
filling my eyes with delight
in touching my life, you enriched it
enchanting my days with your smile.**

...   ...   ...

What my heart remembers
it remembers only you
remembers all the times we shared
the things we used to do.

Memories of two lives that lived
two lives that lived as one
the memories of happiness shared
the thing that life's undone.

What my heart remembers
your hair of raven wing
your long and flowing tresses
my tears they start to spring.

Eyes of darkest coffee
un-fathom-able and deep
the eyes I used to gaze upon
before I went to sleep.

The sweetest face, the sweetest smile
lips that taste of honey
your lips that used to laugh aloud
when I said something funny.

The way we'd walk in Summers rain
through fallen leaves in October
in snow we'd play, on snowy days ...
... You Are My Heart, Remember.**

...   ...   ...

Walking paths having trod before
Mother Earth as she turns from the grave
... looks away
for in leafy mounds, dying lay hidden
remains once kissed by Summers Sun.

In widows weeds of shriveled green
her poor face stained with Autumn tears
she walks the lanes of fallen life
as weeping trees bend low their heads.

Huddled within her threadbare coat
in worn-out shoes, she mourns the loss
and bids farewell to all she knew
as shades of sorrow haunt this land.

Her tears from heavy twilight skys
as elderly Summer passes away
in russets and browns, her curtains now drawing
as England sleeps, in the depth of each Fall.

At mornings approach, after chill of the night
brings carpets of mist, to contour the fields
with but watered Sun, to lift the gloom
daybreak rolls over, and drifts back to sleep.**

...   ...   ...

A day at the seaside, memories to keep
and treasure them always, in dreams while I sleep
with sapphire sky and no cloud to obscure
heat from the sun, bathing the day.

...   ...   ...

It's not easy ...
not really easy being me
when you're stood before the world
and you're there for all to see,

When you're stood under the spotlight
and the people stare at you
when you're feeling full of miracles
but knowing what you have to do,

When you think your friends surround you
and you're feeling kinda' good
just watch that space behind you
when you feel misunderstood,

Cos' you'll always find there's someone
creeping up, on the attack
who will kiss you on the cheek
and then stab you in the back,

When they drag you off to someplace else
and you're stood before the boss
they'll judge and whip and scourge you
then nail you to a cross,

Where they shout and mock and jeer at you
and they pierce you with a spear
when your family's there below you
and you know your end is near,

And you call upon your Father
and you call upon the Host
then quiet repose besets you
and you give up the Holy Ghost,

Then they take you down, and tend to you
and they wrap you in a shroud
and they roll a rock before you
just to hide you from the crowd,

Where you disappear forever
and you walk right off the set
and they start a new religion
all because you were a threat.**

...   ...   ...

Tears in a bucket, throughout the years
so bitter in taste that briny waste
rusting the seams to percolate
the rivers within, as they run out.

Spindrift from seas with passion erupts
stinging the eyes, pouring down cheeks
castles of sand, now all washed away
by oceans of tears that flow through the pail.

Tears in a bucket filled from above
blurring the vision in sorrowful eyes
spill their liquor as weeping clouds
precipitation from rain filled skys.

Ashes to ashes, rust to rust
more holes than whole, now interred with the trash
mud at the bottom still cloys to the soul
heartbreaks once caught in the bucket of tears.

All eyes water, where do tears go
when they're not weeping, what hides the flow
how do you catch them when they're unseen
now there's no bucket to hold back the stream.

In bravest of eyes, nothing restrains
the tears that flow from gutter to drain
subterranean dreams never forgotten
all flushed away, by rivers of waste.**

...   ...   ...

That cup of tea, remember... the one I made for you
just enough for one to share, but not enough for two,

for while you sipped your cup of tea, your fresh and tasty brew
the one I made through chivalry, was the one that I would rue,

whilst reaching for the coffee beans, their flavour to infuse
that caffeine fix, dark and rich, were low from overuse,

within that roasted coffee jar, I clutched the unforeseen
for held confined, in there to grind... just one solitary bean.**

...   ...   ...

One solitary teabag, not enough for two to share
just one for the teapot, the caddy being quite bare,

no drawing of the water, no mashing of the ***
no teabag for each person... while shopping I forgot,

with saucers on the table, there's no teacup at the lips
for the corner store's not open, to buy more  'PG Tips',

it's tea-less in the cupboard, no tasty leaf to brew
so I will have a coffee... and make tea, just for you.*

...   ...   ...

'trademark'