not thinking it comes good,

just write, share and eventually

correct, edit,delete



you like, comment.



on reading others ( pause ) regret these

simple ways



i am not clever, everyone is a writer.



she said so.



sbm.

yet i am pretty sure more came, it looked a lot.



we had moved earlier on a prompt from the owner,

curled up in the corner with chips. tasted like mum

made

on saturdays with crispy bits.



that was a long time ago. we waited for the bus

home.



45 minutes.



sbm.

it is number 13
a thunder ball
in my mind.

who is james bond
anyway,
he is ficticious.

elephant is not.

we got up too early,

went back to bed.

with a cup of tea.



sbm.

yet most were in april, searched for winter

find one will have to insert it. most days are busy,

i am the only one to do it, unless i pay.



searching for meaning, it may be there is none.



loving our homes, rituals and bad spellling

we carry on, carry one.



sbm.

wake late on wednesday,

remember your fathers’ mirror.



know that when all is mud and sundries,

it can be washed clean, clean as babies are.



that brings us back to chairs, that hold fear,

secrets, yet we are lucky in that



we have paid work, and he is not in

attendance.



these are old words.



sbm.

sometimes the boy plays on his own, in water.



sometimes it can’t be helped.



the pies are warm,and full of the tenderest

meats and gravy. which helps the day when

the belling is broke.



the bags came greasy,  left in the litter bin

nearby.



nearby, the boy stopped playing

and we wondered if the water was cold.



wednesday. betws.



sbm.

Posted on August 11, 2016

the bank cuts by,

the path next the
sea.

air is clean here,
sailors are honest
about the weather.



it is a good idea

to visit each year.



sbm.