Paint me the cold of midnight
or dawn in the hills,
mix me the feel of fresh grass
under tired feet
and the smell of rain
on a long and dusty road,
boiling rage
or the sweet sweet joy of relief
blend me a colour
for the things my eyes cannot see

Brides of whitest, delicate lace,
Gowns immaculate, as snow their face
Softest pink, a blush to embrace,
Rose, as rising sun to race

Sheets of white, 'candescent as moonlight,
Waves of coral, leaves and floral,
Rows of candle, as calcic stalagmite,
Mauves 'n violet as wild wood sorrel.

So yon maidens of sweetest spring
Herald the Queen Summer's oncoming
Her nectarous drupe and fruit offspring
The bountiful boon she will bring.

Behold the language of your Beloved
Speaks in tongues of secrets vivid
Of kindness, giving, eternally sipid
Of warmth and fire, of ardour vivid

So when next you spy the verdant maidens
Bedecked finery, blossoms laden,
Whispering, bowing, to one cadence,
Know you see the One true Haven.

Heaven and Earth, the green and the blue,
In Sea combine, aquamarine hue,
The Cosmic Lips, in open chew,
Above and below, one, not two.

In empyreal arch, teeth as stars,
On ground, the shine of soul-avatars,
As land stretches up to the sky,
So bluest firmament longs to comply.

I'd love to be part of the poetry scene
as long as I can take that to mean
goblets of adjectives
fizzing with nouns
quaffed in a hall full
of poetical sounds.

Sadly I fear it would more likely be
I. Alone. Solo.
With a nice cup of tea.

Get your bra on Gladys
Lockdown is nearly done
Shave your legs and brush your pegs
Let's get out in the sun.
Put your perm on Doris
Get your hair all in a curl
Some lippy in red and a hat on your head
I'll take you out for  a whirl.
Bin the slippers Mabel
Squeeze your bunions into some heels
A top tight at the bust is really a must,
And I'll pick you up in my wheels.
Chuck out the onesie Doris,
I know that you just didn't care,
In fact stay at home, I prefer being alone
And there's too many people out there.