After a sudden migration
paint thick brushes hid
and pen lids leapt on nibs,
the sodden hydration
dry as dust.

If I had the choice
would I run with excitement
when I see your name
pop up
or would I decide to be unmoved
by a jolt of you
and sit,
statically,
while another
somewhere else
involuntary leaps,
at an arrangement of letters.

As strong
and
bright
as
best light.
The kind of shine
that does
not dig
or seek
removal of dark,
it excavates
with spinning
flourish
of
radiate;
never too much
in your escalate.

You make my tummy smile,
like cats do,
I see for miles, you’re a good map too ;
siege my horizon,
shifting the blue.

I'm not that keen on chocolate,
i can have or have not with sniff,
my head isn't frail it's skully,
what X Files case is this?

1 No coco nut.
2 No coke or not.
3 No coconut.

In 1410 the village of Little Darling was a pretty nice place to live,
it’s houses were stout and wonderful and the people had lots to give,
the lord who owned the area was benevolent, he never ruled with an iron claw,
he spoke with softness and kindness, not knowing a cajoling roar,
he left the people to get on with their lives, unless they needed a helping hand
and then he’d be there to provide a peg up somewhere in his land.
Because of this the folk who made home here had it better then most peasants from this time,
who were condemned to a life of grinding servitude as if their living was a crime,
they were happier and joyful and free from the toil of subjugate,
each second was a pleasure and every minute spent first rate,
however there was one thing they shared with those who spent every day under the cosh;
everyone was filthy, no one liked to wash.
Only about once every 10 days would they pull bathing water from the well,
If they were especially filthy and their stink they wished to quell,
the rest of the time they didn’t care that they resembled a muddy shrub,
or their faces were still covered in last weekend’s off grub,
nor did they think it mattered if their hair was a matted mucky mess
or that compost heap didn’t smell more than their locks, it actually smelt less,
to them water was mainly a drink when their mouths were feeling parched and shoddy,
not a soothing liquid  with which to  cleanse their body.
Everyone in Little Darling didn’t mind being ***** and looking a unhygienic fright,
actually not everyone, everyone’s not quite right.
Alice always wondered why folk didn’t wash
and that’s not because she wanted everyone to be pretty, pristine and posh,
she just pondered as she daily made herself all gleam,
“why does nobody else round here care about being clean?
They all wallow around in their own filth like a burrowed germ,
more buried in soil than a busy earth worm,
I don’t get when there is plentiful water from wells not that far away
why don’t they dose themselves in the aqua good at any point in the day?
She thought, “Of course it’s their own life and if you never harm anyone else you can never do anything wrong,
but how how how can they fester in their own awful pong?”
So every day Alice would get up before she heard the going to work bell
and go and fetch some water to cleanse herself of smell,
she’d make herself all fresh and totally sans of grit and straw
and revel in the gleam she had coming out of every pore.
Everyone else in Little Darling all thought Alice was great,
a truly smashing lass who had tons of friends and mates,
yeah sometimes they’d remark to her “I don’t get your penchant for keeping yourself immaculate if I had to say
but who cares, I love you, have a fantastic day!”
And yes due to the mud in the village sometimes Alice would get herself all shiny and within a couple of hours look like she’d just crawled out of a cave,
but she didn’t mind as starting the day with a sparkle was what she did crave!
One fine day the folk of Little Darling decided to throw a big party as they adored a drink, a chat and a jive,
just have a massive night of  dancing, where they could give appreciation for being alive,
as Little Darling was a ace place they invited another village to join in the hedonism,
as they wanted folk to bask in hours through a wonderful prism!
When Alice heard news of the shindig she let out a chirping coo,
as revelling in the realm of fun was what she was really made to do!
As the week whiled to an end the day of the party came,
Alice could hardly contain herself as carousing ran through her brain,
she picked out her favourite garments feeling all of a super gathering quiver,
and then full of beans moseyed on down to the river,
she washed away with gusto and dressed all primed to go out,
“I’m on my way to get down and groove!” was her gleeful shout.
She started making her path to the good times, feeling all content,
she couldn’t wait to be immersed in the hub of blazing merriment,
as she was walking to the barn where the party was she encountered others making their journey to fun,
lit they all were by the going down sun,
someone said “hey Alice, I reckon you’ve spent an eternity scrubbing yourself for this bash”,
another said “yeah, I bet you’ve wasted hours by the river to get yourself prepared for this night on the lash!”
Alice replied and remarked, “yes I may have used my time getting myself ready and not been able to enjoy the chills and sits
but at least I don’t have hay in my hair like you ******* smelly *****!”
Everyone burst out laughing and happy all skipped to the revelry,
the slow dusk sky reflecting calm as far as the eye could see.
They jaunted into the barn with the music already in full swing,
the harp, drum, lute and trumpet players all doing their tuneful thing,
Alice grabbed a jar of foaming ale and started moving her body to the beats,
each noise in the air a consummate amazing treat!
Then from out of the corner of her eye she spotted a guy with dancing around in the air,
who'd cleaned his garb,
and washed his hair!
Alice thought "Wow! That guy doesn't look like his stench would make my opticals weepy,
in actual fact he makes my heart all leapy!"
They saw each other and felt swirls and sparks,
a knowing of what could and will be lover’s larks,
a chance they both knew could never be missed
and finalised their first look synchronicity with a longing kiss.
Everybody else stopped,
turned to look,
and knew a little bit more about
loves' rushing roars,
and couldn't help but breaking out
into a round of applause.
Alice felt a dawn,
reciprocated the smile of her fresh guy
and hand in hand they left the barn,
on their lips a glimpse of forever,
and went to find a empty stable,
where they could become all
***** together.

I want you like hulla wants baloo,
like scared craves boo,
like the sky covets blue.
Like a pain thrives on ache,
like hail asks for compacted snowflakes,
like a creator seeks makes,
as a puddle dreams of lakes,
as a kleptomaniac reaches for takes,
as chilly buns call the bake;
I want you as wit wants woo,
you you
you,
tu whit tu whoo.

Although things fall apart
in constant movement
our ties suggest,
for now,
a loosen unknown;
a knot not seen
in the swift of melding.

If
our hands touched daily
would I think of you lots?
When you went to
the shop
would I think of you lots?
Would I make up
a voyage of synchronicity
where the only thing between us
is invisible sustaining air;
if you were close
would flights of fancy cease;
no more puzzle,
the final piece.

I can still hear your loud sleeping noise through the door,
if I was being abrupt
I'd say it's a snore.
But it isn't that obtrusive to me,
it's part of your calling card
as far as I can see;
a breathless wonder
found easy
in the dark,
always hooting every gurgle;
my love,
my brightest spark.

Jigsaw puzzles completed
when you're around,
Rubix Cubes done instantly
as you speak your sounds,
you guide me through a crossword, cryptic
or not,
I can work out any sum
and untangle every knot;
by your side it's easy, you engender all my see,
you're simply amazing
and a place I want to be.

Never won

the money lottery yet,

not that prone to gamble, flutter or bet,

sans engaged with bingo or slot machines,

uninterested in the coin toss of fifty fifty dreams.

But I should,

cos I'm lucky:

in the trillions, billions and millions of folk in the world

our paths crossed

and made my life journey better;

I cherish every letter

of your name:

so glad you're here,

so glad you came.

The field just behind our house looks glorious,

do I think that due to beautiful sunset aesthetic or as it leads to the home of us?

I'm not sure but on the twilight of today
I have it made either way.

You could make something small
tall
as a giraffe
with your soaring essence
and belly laugh.

Much you make,
out of nothing,
just the thought of you is
exciting;
you breathing in Autumn,
your pace, your stay,
your wait.
Strident steps
full of all tense at once,
forging anew.

The essences of amazing
are etched on your face
before beautifying
but please,
if you want,
make up away
until lips touched
with colourful sticks shine
a allure with less
and more.

I remember us sat looking at Manga cartoons like it was yesterday. But now?
She's gone away.
And I'm just a ghost
in a shell.

When I watch Akira I still hear her.

And,

the fading sound,

of
our era.

The roar of apparatus,
very fine
we speak;
soar the map of clap us
every time
we seek.

A guy awakes in the month of May,
his movement is languid, his thoughts full of fray,
he showers and dresses and then leaves his abode,
the spring sun doesn't warm him as he walks down the road.
He stands on the pavement and waits for the bus,
his fibre is calloused with collision and fuss.
He embarks on his journey with eyes facing down,
needing a break, and to get out of town.
He looks out the window as grey turns to green,
urban concrete to verdant serene.
He spies a large field and rings the bus bell to get off
hoping green grass will quell his bereavement cough.
He meanders through a meadow and parks himself under a tree
and speculates with veracity "what's happening to me?
she's gone and I miss her and i'm still alive
the answer to this tripe of mortality I do strive
why the stop, why a finite ride."
His words are peppered with anguish, seeking reason,
caught in turmoil in this springing season,
he slumps with head in hand against the bark,
no idea if it's light or dark,
or if he's she or me,
he slumps forlorn neath the tree.
Suddenly a voice is heard, soft and free,
the soft free voice of the tree.
"Hi, hope you're well and you don't mind my interject
and what follows isn't ferocious direct,
I know you're not waiting for epiphany."
said the tree.
"Or thoughts of gravity,
or eyeing me up for oars to power ships at sea,
I see you want to quell mortality.
Living isn't a simple thing I know,
leaves they leave and i'm covered in snow,
those nervous budding days that precede thundering green sat row by row
are lost  in kindle by the firework show,
burnt or brittle and toppled by go.
The tree pauses for a sec as the guy listens with a heart full of woe,
then the tree continues as the day starts to glow.
"It's transient and sad this life we have live,
some things are taken when we don't want to give,
and it hurts when we lose the things we love,
but for that there's a reason
and that reason is love.
It aches when their tangible space we can no longer share
and their dalliance as it stopped as their life was short and rare
but the loss is felt because of care
we wouldn't miss if we didn't love
every end would have the green of rub,
because love lasts for every season
in whatever weather whether or not,
so with love comes loss, i'm afraid and amazed to say,
loss comes with love i'm amazed and afraid to say,
if you're finding hard to deal or wanna express maybe say something to say,
I want to write about my leaves leaves now so at your leisure be on your way."
The guy breaths in and out slow for a couple of moments and into hence
and mulls on the tree's words as he moves  from to supple from tense,
and gets up ready
with something wanting to say
and as he bes on his way the guy opens his mouth and mouths into May...

"I'm missing you today and everyday since you went away,
Jan the 25th to precise,
I miss your kindness,
I miss your nice.
When we met in June tons of moons ago
we took our time from seed to grow,
watered with careful rush amid a loud hush,
slowly placing blocks while aware of the splendour of the finished build on the box,
germinating tender.
We grew up in each moment we spent smiling,
in every chat in every dialling.
We were kids eh, buying Kid A,
I held you in May and every other month I remember,
Laughs in December, hugs in September
the summer rush of August,
high fives in July.
We went to the cinema our close was abundant,
we had a handle on home and knew what fun meant,
going to concerts, exploring contours,
flying strong with the span of condors,
taking in breath, rising to soar,
moving together, using the force,
galloping free with the wildest horse,
we could talk in code, dabble in Morse,
our peace, our understanding a calming course.
Our strait newly furrowed no burrowing head in sand,
our relaxed eyes rest on promised land ;
It exists now, it exists right here,
the earth of Utopia burying fear,
it melds in the moment when you’re near,
I think I’ve found my lifetime career!
When you felt I was feeling depressed
you brushed off a burden and cleaned up my mess,
blocked those anxiety yelps,
knowing every little helps,
zapping away fear with your glorious medication,
here it is now, your standing ovation.
Then we didn’t see each other for ages,
as we ran through our own books on separate pages.
Then we bumped into each other and got back in touch,
not just a handshake and then a farewell wave
but shimmering convergence with all that you gave.
We got drunk and laughed as one turned into a few
knowing by now I’d go anywhere with you,
your witty jibes and blooming vernacular,
******* you’re blooming spectacular,
gulping fast, no little sips,
I loved your smile and your jiving hips.
You put the ancient in fossil,
the patience in tousle,
the strength in muscle,
the brave in bottle,
the brain in Aristotle,
the flame disparaged nozzle,
the fall in topple,
the tact in subtle,
the rain in puddle,
you stop the reign of muddle,
the pain and struggle,
the mazy puzzle,
the lazy shuffle,
the cake and truffle which I baked befuddled
after waking troubled and craving cuddles
then you came to me with heavenly huddles.
You’re the sunlight sweet sound of suggestion
And take the risk out of a game of Russian Roulette with a Smith and Wesson,
could never rue letting with you,
your moves define perfection with sublime projection.
You gently gild and made love a reality,
engaged me in present the future a fallacy.
But now you’re gone.
There are so many who loved you after you’d met
And they all miss you lots, especially your pets.
It's all the same without you on earth but different,
wise guys still get hints,
Polos are still mints,
sand castles still do best on the beach,
James still has the largest peach,
supercallifrilous
will still be expealidousis,
they'll still be osmosis,
my fake sibling will still be my faux sis.
They'll be dawn still & moonlight thrill
& silly cats on window sill, still, still.
They'll be puns on the hill & run of the mill,
they'll be hibernation curl to blossoming trill, chances missed & days to rue
& summer nights with joyful coo,
but still's not the same
without you;
because there is one less friend of cats & dogs,
this little world has one less cog.
I don’t know where you are,
you hit the end or the start?
And maybe when I end you’ll be starting my heart
and sat on my heart like a star
giving a light in the dark,
I love you Rebecca, wherever you are.”
The guy stops on the spot and mouths into May,
Rebecca my sweet, I’ve missed you today.

Heroics, is it?
Cloak out, feeling supreme,
air billowing serene
and
beaming a dream
of you.

There is no dressing this up,
or hiding behind
protective walls of feigned indifference;
our ending is sad.
It is not a transformative stop
where hatches are battened down
with the promise of spring burst,
our leaves will stay away,
for good;
the midst of us going
is final
as
bills
for flowers
on hearse.
Not that we thought our days would last
indefinitely,
we didn't think at all
of the days of not knowing what to do,
without me
and you.

Between all the light breezes
we could meet,
the spaces where breath
breathes in joy
and be glad that this is it,
and movement now is our thing;
a magic of moment.

Just one more time come around sun
and bring the warm easy
like you always do,
your rescinding shine
has in it all of you;
being the days you were.

Just one more time come around sun
and bring the warm easy
like you always do,
your rescinding shine
has in it all of you;
being the days you were.

About to leap
to fill
but then
stop,
as it does;
what it would always
would in the time of
it's own,
no need to delve
for could,
or should;
just a roam in the will of always would.

I miss you like maps miss fingers,
Like mikes miss singers,
Like bells miss ringers,
Like cakes miss bakers,
Like lakes miss boats,
Like bad swimmers miss floats,
Like politicians miss votes,
Like doting parents miss school plays,
Like nymphomaniacs miss lays,
Like necrophiliacs  miss graves,
Like hypochondriacs miss prescriptions,
Like ****** misses addictions,
Like carpets miss friction,
Like Billy Bunter misses midnight feasts,
Like the grim reaper misses grief,
Like Henry misses the goodfellas,
Like sand sculptures miss umbrellas,
Like Rubix cube devotees miss puzzles,
Like rabid dogs miss muzzles,
Like Van Gough missed his brushes,
Like speed freaks miss rushes,
Like pens miss paper,
Like the Mona Lisa missed Pater,
Like the canvas misses the creator,
Like how the thirsty miss water,
Like the hungry miss food,
Like ***** miss the lewd,
Like the mind misses mood,
Like the tides miss the moon,
Like the sane miss the loons,
Like the dark misses the light,
Like the brave miss the fright,
Like the kite misses the wind.
Like a phone misses a ring
Like every misses thing.

Don't like thinking of what may come,
it can take from the moment,
dilute future fun,
gazing on the moon,
while dreaming of sun,
forgets to walk, as craving run.
But sometimes I see us
laughing in arm, exploring the wild,
ignoring alarm, raising to smile,
touring our spin and erasing  riled,
face to face warm,
shaking seams to
wondrous form.
Side by side in summer storm.
Astral fireworks over head,
lay together in bed;
don't like thinking of what will come,
it dilutes future fun,
but
just
for this moment
I'll think on this one.

Being a weekend binge drinker I don’t really like Mondays
my poor fragile mind is in a alcohol daze,
my limbs are slow and heavy, each movement is a trial
I feel like I’ve ran a marathon after swimming the length of The Nile,
I lop around all zombiefied my legs are full of lead
my eyes are groaning loudly, like an extra from The Walking Dead,
I’m on the verge of snoozing, I do that sleepy involuntary ****,
I pinch myself real hard “Si you have to stay awake in work!”.
So I take a trip to the disabled toilet and have a nap on the ceramic floor,
hoping I’ll feel much better after this tad of a tiny snore,
I rouse after ten minutes and decide to control this ***** ridden strife,
I must get a grip soon, I want a grasp on this Monday life,
a light bulb pings out of nowhere to brighten my maudlin mood,
this sweet recovery will be engendered by lots scrumptious of food,
so I indulge in a savoury overload and gorge on toast and crisps;
Discos, Hula Hoops, Quavers and defo tons of Frisps,
on my dinner I scoff a Mac Donalds and then a Greg’s sausage roll,
this hungry Homer gluttony helps to sustain my whole,
the calorific sustenance does it’s job and my hangover starts to diminish,
I gaze at the computer’s clock and think “hey it’s time I finished!”.
I ponder “ohh I can glide home knowing my day is done
and if it stays sweet and bright I can enjoy a few hours in the sun,
after that I can watch Breaking Bad and catch up with Coronation Street
while busting out the texts and having more to eat,
yeah I’m see what Walter White’s up to while being really greedy,
wait a ******* minute, tonight’s when I’ve said I’d help the needy!
*******, **** **** **** ****, that’s my evening of chilling down the spout,
rather than a hammock night in I’ve got to venture out
and feed a load of ungrateful gits who don’t even clear their plates
and ask me if I’m a cross dresser while sniggering with their mates,
rather then see if Jesse gets caught by Hank and how the story unfolds
I’ll have to scrub those scrubbers dishes pristine while wearing marigolds,
as oppose to nodding off reading with a Rustlers under my front room lamp
I’ll have to put a load of cutlery away after making a 20 sugar brew for a *****!"
So I decide the Wellspring is off tonight as I really can’t be assed going
I’ll just graft extra hard for *** next week and keep the drinks a flowing,
so I’m just about to pick my phone up and call in with a excuse that’s pretty lamey
but then I realise if I don’t go I won’t get to see Amy!
Suddenly there is a spring in my step, my motion feels on point
I shower very quickly and post drying roll a joint,
I have a zip in my posture as I sail and blaze down the road
all my thoughts of staying in they instantly erode,
I think “Amy is ace and topper, in her company all is fun
she’d make a day of gloom resplendent with the sun,
her chirping silly noises are always brill in the air
she turns my giggles to def com one, I laugh without a care,
I mean I know I'm hilarious, I can feel my own strengths in my head and tummy
but when I'm with Amy I'm even more funny!  
She makes it all sunny!
Cos we can berate that gormless Declan who eats with the speed of a cheetah
say he's troffing all the time, like a professional eater,
we can spray a bit of water, have a lot of chat
teleport through nonsense with the free degree of claptrap,
chill around the washer where all the cool kids hang
kicking back like Gs, knowing all the slang,
flick a fleck of sausage then have a speaking swirl
flex the talking muscles with sweet balletic twirl.
I mean she's not perfect, she could improve her lot
she's pretty immodest, always going on about how she's so hot,
alright supermodel, calm down, yeah, okay you were blessed with good looks
be you know being arrogant really ******* *****.
And she don't like the ***** cats, her brain must have a feline blur
how can she not warm to their whiskers and their contented little purrs,
her eyes sometimes don't always work and she is optically infirm
and she steals pies from the scrotes, she don't know to wait her turn,
she'd stab you in the back for a go at the counter, she's always trying to grab the lead,
and added to all that she can't even ******* read!
(I'm surprised you can read this actually.)
But i'll overlook these foibles, her flaws aren't yet that drastic
she has to merge some yang in there to be so yin fantastic!
Ahh, in this life where what was can no longer leave a reflection
it's always super to feel the natural flow of connection;
glowing with simplicity
our joyous synchronicity!"
So i approach the door of The Wellspring and feel sweet and glad
and think, "you know for a Monday you aint turned out too bad!".

Oh!

Our times never fail
to find the blossom
on a easy spring morning,
all is a chatter with bright and new,
in the midst
of wonderful you.

Some people have kindness in everything they do,
a helping hand that listens well
then reacts with easy care,
spreading love
everywhere.
They never cease to offer a warm hug
and try to make things better with their wondrous galloping strive,
distances reduced in seconds;
some people have sunshine in all they do,
some people Mum,
just like you.

Every step of you is heavy
but
not heard ;
loud silence herd.
Imprinting delicately,
you're a delicacy.
I stop and hear only me moving ;
compelled by you.

If there is
a time I don't know you
the world won't stop,
leaves will still rise
and fall
with season
in the park,
and sometimes the scared
will be
called in
from
the dark.
A small plot of land left as useless
finds a way to verdant
in bright,
and all of petals
may find flight
in the blue
of sweet sunlight.
But it would be incomplete
without you there:
the brilliant breathing
in no air.

Pristine,
every trace gone,
to start clean.
As we did.
Spaces into habitat,
safe, warm
and scared,
shared in here.
A dot on a circle
in walls the age of trees.

In autumn
you
sit alive
in leafy
fanfare,
I'm glad
it’s so;
my sudden constant
in time of go;
making all my happy.

How like you to
offer something
when someone
is in strife,
giving all the happy
when the unknown is in life,
how like you to do that,
how like you to be there,
how like you to be wonderful,
how like you to be care,
how like to be magnificent,
how like you to be strong,
how like you to suggest something called belong.

With swift intuition
Christmas day
always feels like Christmas day,
it's own unique parapet
where reach becomes now,
& close grows,
& cats
always land on their feet
& know the meaning of treats ; grub full.
You've made every Christmas good,
you're too good.
Settling platforms for festive forms
where love is the norm,
as papers' torn.

Bees nestle in sunshine flowers,

a once adrift cold cat now warm in her glory hours,

birds coo rounded and loud,

the awesome blue sky without cloud.

Although objectively wonderful I wouldn't like it as much if not for you two,

all your actions gilded love's hue:

I'm lucky I came up smiling from the roll of the parent dice

and this little back garden resembles paradise.

At all sketches a dab hand,
the touch of deft
drawing safe land.

Happy Mother's Day you ace...

It would be amazing if I got three wishes,
firstly I'd give all the hungry lots of food dishes,
then I'd ask for 100 trillion and distribute joy to myself & tons of other folk,
so there was happy in all that they spoke,
and causes of sadness wouldn't be anymore,
that's the first two chosen easy but when it gets to the third I'm not very sure.
I don't need to wish for charisma, I've got plenty of that,
I don't need to ask for head warmth in winter as I've got tons of great hats,
don't need to ask for a feline, I know Poppet the cat,
don't need to ask for higher tolerance to *****, I know my way around a bottle of ***,
and certainly wouldn't want to ask for another Mum...

As I love the way that at a 100 miles an hour you often speak,
and when you go out a Weatherspoon's burger is high on you list of what to eat,
I love the way that if someone was thirsty you'd always offer a cup,
and if another was hurting you'd give a hand to help them up,
I love how your empathy is abundant and everywhere,
I love how with your kindness you always show care,
I love how you surprised me with a Super Nes on Christmas 92,
I love how you'd try to raise a smile in those that have few,
I love how you accept people just the way they are,
I love how in an ocean of light they still could find your star.

So I still need to work on the third wish, that is true
but always always always Mum, I love you!

What is sometimes seen as glorious razzmatazz
would be impossible
without you;
you put the B in my be
easily

You
with yourself
put sparkles
in my ground;
and unearthed with ease
when you come around.

I said your name a lot in May
but I say it more today;
in June I yap your moniker with impromptu ease,
as green fills the leaves.
It feels like you're arriving,
in the start
of
summer

When
you say
with gentle ask
"i'm yet to be discovered,
I may let you name me""
I cope with overwhelm well
and think
there
is nothing better
than you.

Once,
you were away from me
and days to count;
to strive ,
to arrive.
Once
it all changes,
as next to you
always
changes.

The sing
of you now
no longer fraught
with dull thought,
as it should be,
near Christmas.

Perplexed in glorious rush
of telling you
thank you,
for the days,
hours,
minutes
and seconds
of this.

There is a lineage that flows
down the years,
when on the street you wish new people "all the best" cheers,
it happened before,
and will do again,
whether your steps are faint
or three score and ten.

It's a hum of the ancient,
a dropping of time,
an impromtu greeting
is totally fine;

the hold of wonder,
a hug from a space,

just for a moment

all

in one place.

Seems more than something this,
the way
you're on my mind.
Any good thing reminds me of you;
a dot of sunshine,
a high five in a happy time,
a joyous voice projected,
a touch in connective,
contentment in reflective,
a mean wall
relented;
you you you,
you make the sky
all new.

Next time
hatches will batten down,
slumbers start,
laces tied
and
cold proof coats dry
before loose leaves
struggle to stay.
Plans,
preparation against a season.
Until
blossom begins,
prising open hibernation curls
with the promise
of something.

I barely heard the noise outside
but knew it was loud
when others started teeming in,
thanking me for fission skill
and atomic will.
I hadn't the heart to tell them
the thinking of you
made the earth clap,
not the heating of hydrogen;
I knew we were the equal parts of the same element
and realising that
I was in my element;
a space shared with you,
that boomed
and sounded like the start of a big bomb.