My willow wept for many souls That could not speak or reach To heaven’s hand - a sight (unseen) Yet let it be beseeched The bird spoke of a morning Overwhelmed – (so many thought) And when it woke the sunshine burnt The few (by heart) - they caught The few (by heart) they caught … Continue reading what matters
You are the bird with a whisperthat flaps before speaking The yellow blossoms of wattlethat grow in the Spring The hibiscus in summerthat blooms, unexpected and the hours of shadethat help to protect it and when I see colourI think only of you ‘cos you are the rainbowafter the rain the white cloud with sunshine … Continue reading the bird with a whisper
Whenever I sit in the grandfather’s chair I dream what I wish for – that you would be there in a disorganised muddle – I fuddle about stumbling on affection – tripping on doubt yet in your eyes I see a girl – sweet and serene – as if you’re careening – I canoodle and … Continue reading The grandfather’s chair
sensualism 