How many puppies have you kicked?
How many times have you turned
away from those who asked
your friendship
your succour
your help?

How often have you used
that quick easy smile that belies the hardness within
and sheds no light
on those that seek it?

How many times have you used
your voice
your eyes
your weapons
to hurt?

I ask once more:
how many puppies have you kicked?
And how many of them came back
meek
supplicant
like me
to be kicked again?

Your face is the first thing I see
on waking with the morning
and the last thing my tired eyes can hold
as they lose their grip on the day.

I carry the colour of your hair
like a flag to lead me through the hours
until I can its proud glory bring back to you
and lay it at your feet.

You have been my solace and my soul
and so often my reason for rising
you have kept me from the depths I might have found
and made me raise my face to your light.

You are my love and my friend
my rock and my home
you are my life and my heart and my world
Will you be my valentine?

I search the world for your eyes and find it bare
There is nothing in it that can match the light
that shines for all but I would wish were mine

I taste the water bursting from the spring
and never know the sweetness of your lips
or see in sparkle any like your smile

I search the snow for shapes of you and find no sign
Its frozen form can never hold the grace
or softness that is yours and held from me

The wind I search for traces of your scent
Its life I'd gladly change for just one breath
that moves and plays so softly through your hair

The things I seek exist not in the waking world
but solely in my dreams and in my heart
that weeps for love and will not ever rest

Standing on the shaking edge
the jumper gazes at the beckoning plunge
tilted on indecision

with racing heart he gropes forlornly
for the hope and light he means to leave
reaching into it for a reason

inches bring him closer to the step
the hardest last too hard to take
breath crushed by knowledge

the void pulls him and with a keening cry
the balance tips and he's free
and air screams past him with taunting voice

the fall stretches his withered soul
and trailing his despair like smoke
he grows ever closer to his decision

the end comes with thunder and pain
and in the final moments he looks up at billowing silk
with something approaching love.

I laughed in the rain today.

I saw that I was free
to laugh or cry
to smile or frown
to walk or run
to sleep or dream

Free from sorrow
free from pain
free from you.

I laughed in the rain today.

Grimly the silent crowd paces the familiar path
their faces fixed on some imagined horizon
they flow like water
around bins and blockages and around those who stand
briefly entranced by shining windows
gazing at glittering treasures
eyes lit by reflected streetlight.

The measured tread echoes in their heads
each with its own rhythm
but part of the dark symphony of progress
every mind focused on getting there
getting through
making it
making sure that none takes their place.

The dull streets carry the flood
as it moves like a hunched beast
shuffling mutely toward the holes in the ground
pouring down the gaping throat
into smoke and noise and heat.

And those of us who stop and watch
suddenly aware of the futility
stare in horror as we wonder what happened to our hopes and dreams
and , rejoining the march of the ******
we cling like drowning sailors to the floating thought
that we may be trudging life's filthy pavements but in our hearts we fly.

In the garden,
an old man sits
head bowed over a book.

And the breeze softly turns the page.

His eyes
that no longer heed the author's words
that once knew beauty and tears and smiles
are dim.

And the breeze softly turns the page.

His hand
that once fitted perfectly another's,
that remembered the warm softness of a baby's hair
and the icy clasp of snow
is cold.

And the breeze softly turns the page.

His heart
that once beat with the rhythm of passion and excitement
and the gentler cadence of love
is still.

And the breeze softly closes the book.