Building a house
The house of life
With foundations of flesh and bone

Building a bridge
The bridge of strife
With supports of words and grit

Building a barrier
The barrier to hate
With strength of love and kindness

Light fades to dark blue
The almost time
Almost there

Birds finish off the days work
People finish off their days work
It's as if time is pausing a little

The next few minutes wander in
Dark blue changes to black
Black forms the night

Pulse of breath
Pulse of heart
Beating beneath me
Beating to tell me that you're still there

Pulse of night
Pulse of light
Beating through me
Beating to tell me that life is still there

Pulse of wind
Pulse of fire
Beating at me
Beating to tell me that touch and feel is still here

Nature's rhythms
Nature's beat
Nature's rhythms
Nature's pulse

He's fixing time..literally
looking at my Swiss cuckoo clock
to find out what's wrong


I entered the semi detached house from the front
After several attempts at the bell
the millionaire opened the door

I walked past a sparse interior into the repair room
a small room with a lathe and every form of tool you can imagine
1950s magazines lie under tin boxes full of essential stuff

I ask what the old handset gadget does on the wall?
It's a remarkable build of switches and cables
"Thats the intercom so I can speak to her in the kitchen"
We study the cuckoo clock
We can't fix time, no fault found
Time is not broken
The only currency on show is kindness

He sits in the nursing home with his wife
"The house is up for sale and that's that' he tells dad
With no kids to leave his money will go to charity
Time well spent on the right stuff
Time spent on kindness not greed

Marjorie mulls the passing man and fly
The marriage window has gone by
Her hair lies dank n' grey in sobern grief
Her clothes befit a teenage thief

Rejection is a common theme
Daily survival is the daily dream
She plays with beads and hears the chime
The grandfather clock, true keeper of time

She smiles when asked to play the part
Of successful daughter, mother and heart
But reality bites when she is inept
Losing in life she always accepts

Sun flickers through icy fog
Driving to the forest screen sodden with damp due
Arriving to the sounds of bikes, people and dog

Starting out with cold hands
I take the six mile trip
Like some middle age horse
My breath forms an airy aerosol in front of me

Trail shoe lugs grip in
Legs begin to loosen
As my hands move from cold to luke warm

Bikes and people cross at invisible traffic lights
Smiling runners greet me half way through
My cadence quickens

The gate beckons
I stop to walk
Time to stretch
Time to talk