I have several things left to pack:
First, the old grey jumper.
Second, a dusty photo album.
Third, that China plate from the kitchen.

Moving through to the hallway,
I swivel on the spot.
The cat eyes me from the stairs,
Swishing his tail left to right.

I gesture to him: In childlike voice
"Don't worry I won't be leaving you".

Boxes laid at my feet, I fumble about.
What a life;
You spend most of it collecting junk;
And then you realise,
What an earth are you going to do with it all?

Leave it behind?
Chuck it away?
Chuck it away, leave it behind?
A disastrously difficult decision!
We are all sentimental someway.

The smell of cooked beef wafted from the kitchen.
Ah, home cooked meals.
I suppose it'll be takeaways soon.
Until we've settled in of course.

It's really real now isn't it?
Like a punch of reality,
Slapping you in the face.
Mixed emotions,
A bit like Sunday: You enjoy it but know that Mondays coming.

Gently, I stroked my cat.
Amongst the purring:
There came a sudden realisation,
That I had not started my list yet.

your little corner of my mind
is a happy place;
the only place i can see you.

we think back to our childhood
the fun we had;
i wish i’d never left.

your little corner of my mind
could be a happy place
but it grows smaller every day

i like to write under high pressure
you make me feel pleasure
sweet precious

i like to transform move to dance
old form can make new sense
or be nonsense

opened myself to feel the rhythm
doesn’t care it’s good or bad time
this moment like a shiny gem
stop playing their silly game

trying new like chef cook
paid for everything I took
reading the next big book
she like the way I look