Every night, I lie in bed and think of her, her lost eyes

My heart cries as I see her sitting alone
   Staring vacantly out the window at the bird feeder
   The bitter truth is
   The things she forgets are the banal moments
   Her days have become groundhog, so is it so bad to not realise that she is in that cycle?
   The things that matter she still remembers
The time when she was 8 and had laughter with passing soldiers

Playing pranks on those same soldiers with the cheeky grin that’s never left her
When she nearly ended up in Canada to stay safe
Sharing sweets with the best friend she loved and lost

She remembers mum when she was just a foot tall
She remembers me when I could only utter the odd word
She remembers my brother when he had the cheekiest grin, and the brightest laugh
She may even remember better than we all do
Its funny how that works
Laughter is the best medicine she tells me
This is something I now believe wholeheartedly
As every time I see her I see it in action
She makes me laugh
She helps me understand life
She respects me
She builds me up

Strength, endless strength
Smile, the smile it never leaves her
Leaving her breaks me,
But seeing her break, hurts me.
Reality, she isn’t broken
Just stuck on the rewind button
She’s still here
She’s still with me
She’s one of the lucky ones
I’m one of the lucky ones
We’re one of the lucky ones


People ask how is she doing?
I simply answer she is in a battle against groundhog day, And get this she is winning.

I didn't know when I'd see you again,
Four years loved and lost,
Right here.

Every time I leave,
I leave a part of myself behind.
My old self lived here.

Can I learn to love you again?
I watched lives get lost living here,
I lost friends and family here.
I cried and screamed here.

I watched people get married,
I saw relationships begin.
I laughed and smiled here.

No matter how far,
You never leave my heart.
Life took a turn,
And now I'm here.

I'm ready for my next move,
I can see myself growing old here.
But I also dream of leaving here.

The time has come,
The streets glow in the winter sun.
Auld Reekie, how I missed you.
It's good to be back with you.

People say you are either friends for a reason or for a season,
But isn’t a season a reason?

Some of the losses rip you apart,
Some just slip out from between your fingers,
Some don’t leave,
They are just thousands of miles away

You put pen to paper,
And eagerly await a reply
You call from time to time
And you save all you earn to go back and be with them again.

The thing about friendships like that they are worth waiting for.

Your reason becomes a season,
The season is summer.

As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

As you sit to look at your calendar,
Something once overflowing,
Is now becoming more and more
Tauntingly blank.

In a place between the end of something
And the start of the next thing
Stuck in what feels like a hiatus

Bit by bit,
Your calendar starts to fill again
This time it fills with things for you
You and only you

Your calendar,
It has more white than before
But now the white looks like snow
Instead of the ice from before.

It’s been over a week now,


To be exact, it’s been twelve days.
If we are being really honest,
It’s actually been twenty nine days.
But, in reality it’s been so much longer.

You hopped on that plane,
That I had hopped on before.
Neither of us knowing how different it would all end up when you came back off the other side.
We are two birds who emigrate the opposite way from each other.

Crossing paths for only a day or two,
Spending the rest of the flight remembering what used to be.
You soar one way, I soar the other

‘Real friends, they never leave you’,
If only that was true,
To have a reason would make it easier

Us humans, we are just like pieces of drift wood floating down a stream
There is no saying if we will cross paths again,
Or only have a few fleeting moments together

As your wrinkles grow,
You realise that life is too fleeting to be mad anymore

Instead, you look at the moments from behind
You mourn the friends lost, the memories missed
You put down the album and let it drift away

You have learnt to forgive
Every now in then,
You dream of your paths crossing again,
But then you look around and see what you already have.
Sometimes the thoughts pour in and you wonder,

Will they leave me too?
The thing is in life, you just never know.

You hear the thud.
Put on your dressing gown, rub your eyes.
And wearily approach the door, wondering what it could be.
Another bill, another promotion in a cunning disguise?

But there it is, dressed elegantly in plain white,
With the stamp placed perfectly on the right.
You see the swirls in the handwriting,
The way they flick the k’s and how they curl their c’s.

You try to guess who sent this wonderful surprise
You pick it up with care and, for an instant, freeze
Then you abandon all restraint, and rip it apart
Desperate to read what’s at its heart.

It takes thought and love to write.
In a world full of texts, facetimes and calls.
A letter hits the spot just right.

A short story, addressed to you
And only you
A little piece of history lies in your hand
Keep these letters

Store them safely away
For they will fill your heart with joy
When you re-read them on a melancholy day
Next time you are at a loss  for something to do
I beg of you, put down that phone
Take out a pen and write a letter or two.

Turning twenty two,
A girl can forget everything she once knew,
A birthday comes just once a year
Some people revel in it,
Whilst others hide it.


The day you celebrate
You also mourn for the girl you once were
As you realise you are not her anymore
You may shed a tear
As you say goodbye to yet another year


A year filled with heartbreak, love, friendship
Life changing lessons
Perhaps it was a year
Where something truly amazing happened
After twenty one years
You realised your worth on this earth and put it into action


So take a second to shed a tear                                    
To raise a glass
Because twenty one was really quite class
Then look ahead because you never know twenty two could be your year.

My life feels like an empty coffee cup

The buzz has past and only the specs

That will be washed away remain

My eyes stare vacantly as I turn

Page on, page on, page




My mind wandering away from the dictionary definition of the words on the page

Searching for an answer

Some motivation, a surge of energy

Just one urge to move




My sheets are not just where I sleep

They are where I suffer

A place where dreams come true

But nightmares too









Are people running to go someplace?

Boil the kettle.
Look out the window,                                  
To a world full of golden hues.

Red, Orange, Beige,
The crisp sound of leaves crunching,
as you feel the frosty wind hits your face.

The cosy cream cardigan,
you bought at a car boot sale.
It has arrived,
the time of nights in by the fire.
Endless cups of tea and walks in the rain.

The paper white as snow,
Glistens in the light.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
8.10, 8.12, 8.14, 8.16,
Still the paper sits there as white as snow
The paper is now dazzling in the light.
8.22, my biro pen slowly approaches,
A stroke and its done,
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Now a whole sentence sits on the page
‘Sara got on the 24 bus every Monday at 8am, as if it was second nature.’
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
Now a whole paragraph about Sara has come, screech, abruptly to a stop.



Thoughts swirl around my brain what does Sara do now?
What is next?
What was a story within a matter of minutes becomes notes
It essentially becomes academia on a story not written,
As the years pass, and the essays in the folder grow,
Sara becomes she.
As the terms fly by, the relationships happen or don’t happen,
Friendships begin and end, there are celebrations and commiserations,
Weddings and funerals.
She becomes me,
The words begin flowing out,
The stories plummet onto the page.
What was missing all along was the Sara is not she, she is a little bit me.
She could not be me, until I knew who me is or was.

Your body jerks as you heave yourself out of bed.
The clock reads 5am.
Your phone vibrates,
It’s here.
The countdown is over.

A few long hours,
And caffeinated up,
You arrive,
The sun dances on your skin.

Unpack, freshen up,
Then hit the streets.
You wander aimlessly,
And endlessly.

Eating, sleeping, drinking and waking,
Whenever your body clock requires.
The schedule has been stripped,
Your busy days gone.

You set the rules,
You make the decisions.

Want to people watch with a glass of wine,
Why not?
Want to wander and look at the buildings,
Why not?
Want to sleep in,
Why not?

It’s your trip,
Your story,
Your travels.

The only person you have to depend on is you.