The dove of my dreams has flown
out through the window of day
to the place where she roosts
high in the rafters of my head
sometimes she will turn pigeon
and bring me confusing ****** stuff
but mostly she brings peace
sleep well little dream dove
I hope to see you later

You are lovely
full of birdsong
and not much dew
was there ever a morning
such as you

Walk to the edge
where words lie unspoken
silent and broken
on the rocks of the sea of you
if you cannot fish for words
how can you feed yourself
when you hunger for more
along this lonely and uncertain shore

The grave
a quiet place of tumbled stone
which covers cold and ancient bone
which once was warm as you or I
and in our turn we too will die
fragile life to fragile dust
we live as every creature must
fixed in time of certain span
and then return whence we began

Do not talk to me
or claim a previous affection
we had nothing but a tenuous connection
do not press for friendship in my name
I do not wish the bond or seek to find the same
so leave me in the same state as you came
now get you gone
forget
move on

Soft falls the light upon your face
shadowing each trace of sleep
who am I to know or see
the secrets that you keep
we give our minds
to flights of dreams
but only to ourselves it seems

Just for today
I have cast off the cares of Winter
and tied them in a cloth of April green
I hid them on my hope shelf
where they cannot be seen