I live in the north with the hoodies and the loons,
Where the wild gorse grows and prickles the brooms,
Where fields and pastures roll into mounds,
Which fold into mountains which tickle the clouds.

I live in the north, more water than rock,
Grey, green and blue like glas on the loch,
Reflecting the perfect mirror of the moon,
Are the world's oldest rocks, from which it was hewn.

I live in the north where cold winds blow,
Bringing hailstones and hurricanes, sunshine and snow,
To pristine white sand beaches where white waves come foaming,
To the straths and the glens serene in the gloaming.

I live in the north, the land of the Scots,
Named after the Irish, the natives forgot,
A land of Vikings and Picts, through war and through fire,
They bested the worst of the Roman empire.

I live in the north where the music runs deep,
It can make you laugh till you cry or a grown man weep,
A reel to make you believe any fable,
A blast of the pipes'll have you dance on the table.

I live in the north, still ruled by a king,
Monarch of the glen, lord of the ling,
Whose forests lack trees and whose lands are bare,
Save for the lonely, hunted hare.

I live in the north where magic is real,
And you can never be sure if it's selkie or seal,
Where the goddess Aurora paints the night sky green,
And dances with more stars than you've ever seen.

“Have a cup of tea, it’ll all be OK”
No matter the problem, that’s what they say
Whether you’ve lost your cat, your keys or your Nan
“What you need is a brew”, not some help or a plan.

Got a paper cut?
“I’ll make a ***.”
Laptop caput?
“It’s nice and hot..”
In massive debt?
“All soon forgot.”
Mourning a pet?
“It’ll help a lot.”

It’s as if that milky brown solution
Held inside the resolution
To every problem ever cried
And yet it tastes like a bare-faced lie

“Have some tea, it’ll be OK”
Will it make all my problems go away?
Will it fix the famine or end the war?
Will it house the homeless or feed the poor?

You’re telling me dried vegetation
Is the answer to my agitation
“I’ve stubbed my toe!” “I’m going blind!”
Drink up, cheer up, never mind!

If it were true, can you even dream
Of a world where tea can fix a melted ice cream?
A cuppa here, a cuppa there,
The end to all the world’s despair!

But we’d eventually run out of space
There’d be a great big global tea-growing race!
The cost of tea would go sky-high,
Only the wealthy could afford to buy
The medicine, the wonder drug
Your future secured in a polka-dot mug.

I simply find it hard to believe
That a soup of steaming boiled leaves
Has the unlikely power to relieve
Even the very most naïve.

But don’t you worry,
Don’t dismay,
Have a cup of tea, it’ll all be OK..

There’s a part of me that I don’t know,
Where secrets hide and troubles grow,
Beyond the reach of woken mind,
Beyond my conscious thoughts inside,

Always there but ever-changing,
Growing stronger, as I’m ageing,
A part of me I can’t control,
An anti-matter, aching hole,

I see it in my mirrored eyes,
My calendar, my health, my lies,
I tell my family I’m fine,
But I feel it heavy all the time,

I can’t imagine from what it grew,
A better life, I never knew,
My friends and family, so strong and true,
Self-indulgent, pathetic, to still feel blue,

I keep it locked behind heart tissue walls,
Yet in various symptoms, sinister it crawls,
Across my skin, my sleep, my sight,
It toys with my mind long into the night,

An apathy for life itself,
There is no point, why care for myself?
Why work and clean and get out of bed,
When the world is cold and dead?

If I could leave the rat race,
Run away from all the world,
With work and responsibilities,
Close my eyes and off I would twirl,
Like a leaf on the wind in autumn,
No telling where I would land,
I would soar across the oceans,
Away from problems and plans.
I’d drift over caves and continents,
Rivers and streams alike,
And if a storm should come my way,
I’d dance amongst lightning strikes.
I’d join the swallows’ migration,
I’d follow a glacier’s flow,
I’ll watch volcanoes spew molten earth,
So many miles below.
But when it comes, my time to land,
No matter where I roam,
I know exactly where my heart will be,
You’ll always be my home.

Candelabra rusting on the moth-eaten cloth
Old light splinters the fading drapes
Grey glints on the dim silverware
Dust rolls slowly through the air

The dripping tap, long since stopped
A small stalactite reaching down
Cold peace hangs above all
A silence that only time could fall

No embers in the fireplace, just age-long ash
No photos on the mantel, just empty space
The doorbell knows no longer how to chime
Even the clock has forgotten the time

Let me leave this place
This body
This mind

Let me open that door
Light ahead
Dark behind

Let me walk on grass
Breathe air
See sky

Let me rise above
So small
Goodbye

Cold outside, the glass mists,
Drawing swirls and turns and twists.
Draw me closer, hold me tight,
Hold me until morning light.

Wake up hazy-eyed, asleep.
I watch you dream, I let you keep
the covers that you stole from me.
I stumble up and dress quietly.

Close the door, a cringing creak,
Trees outside in autumn chic.
Breathe in deep, breathe out a cloud,
Humming Martha Tilston aloud.

Meander round and under trees,
My mind skipping between falling leaves,
Pause a while beside the pool,
A mirror of glass, fluid and cool.

Birds’ songs split the crisp air,
The wind rustles leaves and plays with my hair.
Amble back, songs in my mind,
One glance back as the moon leaves the sun behind.