Yellow sky, the sun has peeked
It looks beautiful when the curtains leak
Darling, you look as pretty on your slumber
Yet you are more beautiful on my shoulder

Dark yet light
Warm yet cold
Rough yet smooth
Old yet young
Many yet one

Remembers love engraved
Forever without sin, waving in the wind
Bent with force, bows its head
And yet, looks straight ahead
Stands still and silent its feet entrenched
Sometimes clothed, sometimes naked to the eye
Strong and straight or gnarled and bent
Shaded or stark it welcomes light

Grows mighty from so small
Features colours red, green and gold
Casts open its arms for all to behold
A perch, a home, an attitude of strength
Somewhere to climb when child like
And some would call it home within its arms

Reaches to the sky that it embraces
Knows the aroma of many places
And sometimes bears wonderful presents
Or foods of foreign resources on platters of clay
It holds silver, stainless steel and gold
And with parchment like sails
It would carry you off to lands and strange places

We take its worth without thought
We laden it with our burden
We drink in its presence without thought
We eat at its heart, for which it never complains
This is the magnificence of woodland Oak.

When no one is looking, words burst from my head
Inside my skull are colours, scents and sounds
And my life is played out to a relentless sonorous soundtrack

Sometimes the music collapses with waves of resonance
And in others it is plucked like strings, individual and soft
It’s perceived by my inner ear, it’s not for others to hear

When I am out of sight, I’m truly at my very best
For life is like a swirling whirl of different shades
Different shapes and forms, some almost difficult to perceive

I try to put these on paper, shape the thoughts that I have
But the best, these arrive in the depth of the gloom
And in the early morning, they are once again forgotten

These words that slip through the fingers of my recollection
Flowing with the brightest of sparks, glowing embers of ideas
Impressions lost in the falling mornings sunlight

In front of my keyboard I then sit, puzzled chin in hand
Fingers tap the keys and yet nothing of excellence appears
So another day, with the words remaining inside my head