Poetry in note form
My kinda bench .. and hope
Poised
. . . . . . . .
(to fly)
. . . .
Gentle
Braced there
Ready to fly
A home of magical lightness
and safety
Under the pipes of life
Soft tweet
(and the good kind)
Not an attack
A precious serenity
A, please
You are everything
Out in the open air
Fearless comes on
With you I dance
My cares had melted
How serendipitous
Brain lighter
Getting there
You fly away
into my dreams
Uplifted . .
Need to sink
on puppy paws
..
and dunes
Not wanting
any more
.
.
.
They see me
Do they feel that I love them
Gentle softness, patience
Universal connections that
Warm air
Intertwines
.
.
.
.
.
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.
Beyond / the ‘grown up’
………………………………………
Eyes of an eighty year old
at the age of eight
It’s been eighty four years
Looking for a forty year
old
who saw a flicker of the
eyes
Seeing me as a ‘weirdo’
Greedily, hungrily, wanting
momentarily, another
to carry the weight
.
Never speaking to them
Getting close, but staring
at the age of four
Eyes craving
Body curled up
Never speaking
but always telling stories
Hands reach out to touch me
I couldn’t want any more
.
.
Wasn’t allowed
Couldn’t be reached
Did a hand ever want to
reach out?
Hope was doing too
holding me
Beyond probability.
.
Selfish in my longing
The writer in the two
year old
Intense loathing
.
The private secret
and a me that
could never speak
.
.
.
