romance never dies in the single
a free heart forever sings
adventure is around every tide

patience is not just waiting. it is a practice of composure and humility. if hope is the thing with feathers, patience is a smooth riverbed stone: gentle, yet uncompromising.

we were poor
but not deluded

and when
van morrisson's
"brown eyed girl"
comes on the radio on
that worn
old
brown rug
my brother and I
started tapping our feet
shaking our heads
to the music and
our sisters are smiling
at us and
our mother is laughing
at us

and all we needed was
laughter and love
a prayer and a song

turn up the radio

there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us

i,

too,

rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his

and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his

but he stood up

and left

and maybe he knew,

it was for the better.

Maybe if I tell my depression
That I will never get tired of it,
and I will always be here for it,
it will leave me too.
Cause that’s what they all say
and yet they leave anyway.