I love chocolate.
Chocolate disappears fast.
No more once eaten.

Single storey, long brick building,
curtained stage and wooden floors,
overture beginners, teachers,
scouts and guides in Sunday chorus.

Sounds of pennies dropping,
scraping chairs, coughing, iching, scratching,
and fidgets tiny bladders filling.

Holy high days came in cycles,
Whit Walks, banners, carnivals.
Many living on in stories,
since their final church parade.

If I pop this little pill I'll be able to get all my work done. Am I opening a door? One I cannot close? Walk with me as we venture through this together.

Just passing through,
simply to absorb the wonderful view.

What a pleasure it can be,
strolling through a forest on a Sunday afternoon.

Your skin still smells like,
The first time I touched you:
Like late Sunday afternoons,
On long weekends,
Sweeter than expected,
With all the time in the world.

I get the feeling you want to leave me
In the past where you found me
But I guess that's just how life is
Never a guarantee

Funny though
How we never did disagree
Now you're gone
Like a parolee

It seems you never once looked back
I hesitate to third degree
I want to ask
But that's beneath me

I wish you well
Though I must tell
...I'll miss you on Sunday

You have never failed to get my every day fired up,

Thirsty and longing for your company and hugs,

No idea how you could effortlessly reach to my heart,

And now I can't stop myself from wanting you so much.