I miss you,
you don't
exist,
anymore:
street signs disappear,
the road smooth,
and
bump less,
and then nothing.

Leaves stay on trees
throughout every season,
and forms
and rules
meld
into
one crying pattern
of loss:
please come back,
I miss you.

I love you.
Today has been magnificent,
we saw the span of us:
the differences, trials
and
tribulations
but also the love that led to standing at rainy train stations,
waiting to be carried into arms
that with their touch
allow our world to become one present moment of comforting joy,
where all is right,
and
full of bright.
I love you.

Everytime
I walk past the window
where you were
I begin to wave,
but as I start the hello motion I remember
you're not there anymore,
just a empty seat
behind a full green door.
Oh Roy.
But at least there are still sinews
that move
in anticipation of you,
and muscles connected to bone
acknowledge
the space you left.
Now everytime I walk past your window and raise a hi
it's mixed with the love
of goodbye.

Today you look office sick,

Staying still in your swivel chair,

Turning white and pale in printed air,

Your secret dreams

You discarded,

You confidential waste,

Its never fair to feel this tired,

Alone and out of place.



So for one night lets go dancing

On those sticky floors,

Returning all the smiles,

Holding all the doors,

Cos in these hours we will make it

We’ll be far away from here,

We will never fall asleep,

We’ll never feel their fear.



The hours that your spending,

Not knowing how to pass the time,

Drawing the curtains on the sun

And never betting on the blinds,

You start looking lost down a one way street,

Forgetting how to how to laugh with love

Or what ghost to meet.



So for one night lets go dancing

On those sticky floors,

Catching all the eyes,

Opening all the doors,

Cos in these hours we will make it

We’ll be far away from here,

We will never fall asleep,

                        We’ll never feel their fear.



(Money’s a necessity, this sweet splendour’s free)



So for one night lets go dancing

On those sticky floors,

Catching all the eyes,

Opening all the doors,

In these hours we will make it

We’ll be far away from here,

We will never fall asleep,

                        We’ll never feel their fear.

Prosecco echo -
On that day we had fun,
drank
and ran
with everyone;
now just fading silhouettes
making the most of the sky,
but never too tired to raise a glass to
goodbye.

It's not the length of the queue, it's the getting to the front in the end,
it's not the muddled blocks
it's the syncronicity of friends,
it's not the missed bus,
it's the one in the nick o' time,
it's not the clapperless bell,
it's the one with splendid chime.
It's not the laughter gone, or the last spilt drink,
it's the happy of the moment in the ones we sink;
it's not the toast that falls face down, it's the one that lands sunny side up,
it's not the day you lost, it's the day you won the cup.

There are things supposed to be on the list
to ease the journey through isolation's mist;

toilet roll,

milk,

bread,

and a assortment of crisps.

They are all secondary though,
just as long you are there with your dazzling smile and wonder it feels fine to lock all the doors and fasten the latches;
just us with splendid
as we batten down the hatches.