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The blackberries on the railway path are ripe.
  The woodland birds are quick to take their share,
while purple fingers pick amongst the hype
  and rabbits hop in the hedgerow somewhere.
A cool wind spirals, rustling fallen leaves,
  carrying distant cries along its way
and bending the amber-tinged tips of trees.
  The sound of summer joys are in decay.
They soften, becoming calmer, quiet,
  like tired eyes in need of time to sleep.
There are some feelings I cannot forget
  and memories I will forever keep.
Meet me along the railway path, my dear,
  to breathe the mellow, autumn atmosphere.
19:00 - 07/09/17
Sonnet - 28 -
 Oct 2017 Shirley J Davis
i think my best friend
is dead

no joke
no lie
i think she has died

we haven't talked in
5 years
and i miss her like you miss
after you've been up all day

like you miss seeing
while your eyes are closed

like you miss smiling
when you're sad out of your mind

i miss her like you miss
your best friend
who has gone

i miss her like
the other half

of me
I just needed to talk about this
 Oct 2017 Shirley J Davis
stuck in a prison of pain
my hands touch the bars
a little cage i find myself in
i hear something far away
****** sound of laugther
****** lies in my face
all the people seem so happy
you and your new lover
it all made me sick and tired
now the questions arise
guess my time has expired
my hands touch my ears
this life is such a dead end
what have i done wrong
why do i have to be strong
in a prison i don't belong
i crawl back and think it all over again
no more writing about you on the wall
no more other people to break my fall
the gates of hell are opened for me
maybe they want me back
maybe they want me just to see
the me has been taken from me
and i should go in to find
i embrace the darkness
i cry to clear my mind
in the prison of pain
it are my own hands that bind

— The End —