I have her legs.
Flaky skin-wood stove induced,
winter pricklies going wild,
and a little bit of mashed potatoes in the thighs.

I saw them hiding
underneath her house coat,
pale and untouched
like the snow covered hill.

Jesus is said to have turned water into wine.
Today my urologist turned my favorite cordial, red wine
into water, and only five eight once glasses at that!
TKed, Syrah, Syrah.
Christ! where's Jesus when you need him?

My Grandmother owned two bells
and she used them to be heard,
to amplify her aging voice.

The first was black iron
on a post out back.
She pulled on its rope from the porch
and it rang a hard thunder
that shook the land.
It rang to bring him home,
to feed him
leftover *** roast and potatoes from the garden

The second felt fragile
porcelain in the palm of the hand.
A sweet child cling
to ring
when she’s sick in bed.
He would come running with a tray
to feed her,
navy blue socks with holes
walking quickly on a linoleum floor.

It's amazing
how much of a comfort you can find
with fictional characters and their worlds.

Whether it's fantasy, sci-fi or thriller,
whether their world is full of dangers and adventures,
you would rather be in theirs than be in yours.

I realised how much of a sadness our world has become
because we rely in non-existing worlds
in order to survive our own.

*(n.d.)

Loving him was like finding a new book
Not knowing what it's about or even if your going to like it
But you open that first page and fall in love with the words
Needing to read more and more
Picturing what your reading
But then you come to those last pages
Ending of the book the book you fell hopelessly in love with
Finishing the book you don't know what to do after all the hope and all the feelings you had for those characters are gone.
Are just a memory in your mind
That you have to play over and over again
To fell like it was real again
Leaves you empty and broken
until you find that next book.
Leaving a new mystery for you to slove.

The moon shines
with the sheen of silk
blankets the landscape
like a fine quilt

While the rain drops drum
on the window pane
in the blues rhythm
to cool the heat strain

As the stars begin to sparkle
taking up the night
showing off there wonder
in the twinkling light

The gentle whisper
of the summer nights wind
moves the rainy parade
pass the valley and glen

As the ease of the morning
fills the air
a rooster meets the greeting
on a day quite fair

The day begins to grow
just like any normal day
were we rise to the world
to begin work or play