*** me it's bedtime
hardly had time
for me time
and She says
it's your time
to shine.

Here in Santiago
where I often go
for
forgiveness
from his holiness
it's hot,

not that it worries me
and that's odd
because
most thing bother me
but not this.

There are heirlooms
that are used daily
and dusted weekly
because
the butler left
without notice
except
I noticed

and now
I have to
beg forgiveness again
for
cursing him.

I don't know what can be done,
But I've never felt as lonely
As I do when I'm not alone
And though I know it's not me only
I feel like the only one

©2014

Breakfast in bed
and She said,
something but I wasn't listening
I was putting the bacon in the
'George Foreman'
guaranteed to give it more of
a punch,
tomatoes in the pan
eggs in the poacher
not forgetting
two slices in the toaster,

She said,
is it nearly done?

I was chasing the eggs which
had started to run
the bacon had shrunk
the toast was black,
I'll be back
says I
closing the door and ready to fly
to the nearest go-to
for a take-away.

some stay
some go
and
some no longer want to know,

everything hurts when everything hurts.

It's Sunday,
shall we pray or
shall we go outside and play,
and by we I mean of course me
because no one wants to stay,
well
can't cry over split peas
spilt milk or cold teas so
I'll get on by getting along
by myself.

It's Sunday and at the risk of
repeating myself,
some stay
that
is what makes every day
bearable,

which is like terrible but
nicer.

John
though not the Baptist
still
lost his head over a girl.