I will
quite like a wild rumpus here some time,
a make shift band,  straggled procession
down the lane, chanting, scaring the neighbours.

it is often quiet here, though Kenny’s voice
carries.

there will be four of us, costumes and laughing,
happy knowing who we are, comfort in skin.

we used to push you in the toy pram, your legs
spilling out, our selves the show.

it is often quiet here now, you have grown, this
is not your area.

we walk your district quietly.
wait in the shelter.

I will
quite like a wild rumpus here some time.

sbm.

.
Waters waltz land dancing,
Dragon flies flutter a buzz,
Cat-o'-nines torching tales,
Where beavers are logging
Time with fresh water fish
Who breach as they mouth,
Fly catching in a casted sea,
Mossy and bogged with peat,
And the colours, mottled, fey,
Brindled, brim, know they say,
There are lessons, hear stillness,
Punctuations in the spry singings
Of the never tardy larks, windrous
Riddles ripe rushing through reeds.
.

Circle back to me.
Check in, check out-
I guess-
we’re ok today.

My heart and mind know
what I am waiting for, but
something is missing.

We’re on separate
pages, and maybe even
on separate books.

You want to love me;
To build, to grow, to learn, and
all the things between.

But I’m in peril.
Floating between right and wrong.
The good and evil.

And I’m not sure that,
the girl you fell in love with
exists anymore.

Love can be like
trapped light
existing like dusk
the likes of which we can't see
physical but not optical
gravesites for stars
a waystation for dreamers
a delta to cruise through
paradise on Sunday
cold as ice on Monday
a hundred pound block on tongs
with a butterfly at its center
your temple of madness
or the Egypt of your ***
lands of mystery
an island of death
proven theories of sorrow
your lineage, children, tomorrows.

some thing passed the window.

air hangs heavy here. word came.

nest intact despite the storms, despite

the news of every thing.

checked, she still sits, eyes shining, waiting

on the future.

four blue eggs.

there is no photograph

sbm.

#andrewbellon