so so soon
well be together
staring at the stars and moon
and dreaming about forever

miscommunication
pent up tension
my sadness, your madness
and now I'm here
criss crossed on the concrete
so cold it stings
scraping my mistake off your precious stones

Moonlight.
Lights up the night.
Keeps you out of the dark.
It casts a defiant sheen over life.

She is his moonlight.
She lights up the night.
She keeps him out of the dark.... sometimes.
But she's defiant, and she wants everything that is not hers.

Sunshine.
Brilliant and stunningly bright.
Adds a sparkle to his life.
Keeps you out of the dark but also brings light.

I want to be his sunshine.
I want to add a sparkle to his life and his eyes.
I would keep it light,
Fun loving and free.
Just the way young kids should be.

The moon gets it light from the sun.
I am no longer her ghost.
She will be my ghost.
She will want what I have,
And what I love most.
I will not be her follower.
I'm going to take him far.
I will be my own star.
I will get him away from the world and bring him to the stars above.
I will bring him to me. And the universe will too.
I will be his sunshine....... Someday at least.

The sun does not need a moon.
The moon needs a sun.
I am no longer the moon.
My journey to the sun has begun.

monsoonal like heat
saps the strength
from my bones
one day into the new year
and i am weary beyond belief

sitting on the back step
a beer sweating itself
slippery in my hand
thinking sandwiches
and fruit salad
may well be our dinner
if i could be bothered
i don't think any one
is hungry anyway

the humidity creates
stickiness, so that flesh
melds together, i would
shower but it would
be my fourth today

and the beach is closed
due to a shark sighting
so i sit and ponder
as my beer warms
and the back
of my knees sweat
little puddles


thunder rumbles
and i hope that soon
a storm  will break
at least then we will
be able to sleep tonight

sheesh it is  hot.....

i sit in pew that years before
a convict sat chained to six others
brought to pray for a repentant heart
for the theft of bread or linen handkerchief
or perhaps something more sinister

my ample backside finds no comfort
on the narrow six inch board
but then i doubt that there were
many rotund convicts

the gloom in the old  churchis peaceful
and it is cool even though the temperature
soars outside the thck walls of sandstone
insulate not only from the heat,
also the sound of cars and other modernities

i expect the convicts, appreciated the church,
perhaps not for it's moralities and judgments
but as a respite from the harsh australian sun
a place to sit in quiet contemplation, whilst
the hymns from a homeland,  so far away
washed over them,  like water to a parched soul

as i sit  i feel for those convicts
and the quiet gloom comforts this soul...
i hum amazing grace and feel the connection...

I lie here every night,

wishing , i could hold you tight;

as your beauty echoes softly through my mind,

as my heart,you gently entwine.



I feel your presence by my side,

as you gently unfold in my mind;

as we make love,i feel your soft skin,

as it caresses mine.



It was almost like a song,

the orchestra gently playing ;

as our bodies dance along,

then i awake, with tears in my eyes.



When i roll over to hold you,

i realize,it was just a dream;

as you,

lay gentle on my mind...

,