When you talk to me
My Broca’s Area fails
And makes me so dumb

An onion can grow from a seed,
            From a tiny place and start its  life  
                                                   from the beginning,
                                                      ­                         to its end.

Or an onion  can grow from a broken piece of itself.  
           If it’s tended to carefully
                                and the conditions are favourable.
                                                                ­          And go on again

  To begin again.

Let’s make a world,
Where at the end of a long day of work
I could hold your hand to your car outside
And give you a chaste kiss
Just a simple thing,
That a new couple does  
Because they will miss each other
Because you are working late
And flying home the next day.

Let’s make a world
Where one day, if we were married  
We could be out at work,
And I could give you a chaste kiss when your start your day and I go to my ward
And you to yours.
And when we fly to your home country
We could look after your parents together.
And when they die I could hold your hand at their funeral
And swing my arm around you.
And take you home.
Just a simple thing a couple does
Because they love each other.
Let’s make that world.

To lie down with you  in the peace and quiet
To feel your soft touch and body near mine
Pressed against me
Your warmth and taste
Your fragrance and pulse
To hold you and be near you
To feel whole and complete
Next to another whole complete person.
To have you want me and to want you too
To save this touch and put aside my longing
To hold you and pick you up with ease
Lean into the here and now
For the rest of the day
And dwell into the eve.

Little by little your tiny hands
And soft cheeks, you're so close to me
Unravel into each other

Remembering the every day magic
Ernest and shy.
Nervous and happy.

And.

Lovely alone time with you.
At last a moment together
You and a view, take me now.

Kisses so soft and gentle
Under the sun setting sky
Nearly sixty thousand people cheered for us

Christmas is here.
Your absence is my present.
How lucky I am
To have the gift
Of missing someone like you.

Come sit here with me my friend.
Come and rest your weary feet
A comfy seat and window pane
As we watch the passing trains
And people on the street.

Come sit here with me my friend
Come and share with me your day
This sunny view and empty chair
Are not the same
Without you sitting there.

Little seeds, growing.
Little shoots, showing.
Water gently flowing,
To seeds in the ground.

Little bulbs, forming.
Little layers, warming.
Sunlight is transforming,
Little onions in the ground.

I think about you when I see a barefoot rider.
Or hear Fields of Barley or Is this Love.
Lime cordial doesn't taste the same.
And an egg is just an egg now.
Crying Little Birdy, dappled light and swaying curtains
Or alto voices that are lower than mine but just as bright.

I think about you when I use a dishwasher stick
That has the scourer with the detergent in it.
When I sit over the crack in a couch.
When it rains and it's cold.
When I have cold feet.
When I slip into cool sheets.

I think about you when Father Ted is on.
Imagine you in Paul Kelly songs.
When I smell cut wood, sanded back.
Or salt air.
Or see grey hair and weathered loved houses.
Or women in vests with lilac blouses.

I think about you in the water,
When I'm in the shower, or at the beach.
When it rains and when I drink.
In the blue and green and sometimes silver.
Or when I'm smothered in an unrequited love
That isn't yours.