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September 18, 2012
During idle thoughts
As he watched dusk take over the day
Came into his mind that dreaded woman
The one he shouldn’t have let get away.
Thoughts of a promised wonderland
Years of planning gone to waste
Only playing second fiddle
As back home, he always raced.
A life lived as planned
should be considered a
fortunate hand.
September 14, 2012
He could see all too clearly now,
that what he had mistaken for love
was no more than need on her part.
She’d used him as an emotional lever
and consequently broken his heart.
They were buried in centuries of clutter
Each piece having a meaningful thought
Passed down through endless generations
Simply custodians, in a trap, caught.
Just when I thought I was moving on,
I felt you near to my bed.
I quickly looked up and saw nothing at all,
I thought I was going out of my head.
That night I went out and had my first date
With a guy who I’d met in the shop.
He’d lost his partner, just like me
So emotions we were able to swap.
I came home thinking, ‘What was the point’
Of bothering to even go out.
I felt so guilty, it was all too soon.
He was as depressed as me, without doubt.
Weeks went by and he hadn’t phoned,
Which did me some good in a way.
As I’d made up my mind to say ‘No thanks’
Had he rung me the very next day.
Then out of the blue I got a call
Which started to make my heart flutter.
He was in a bad way and needed a chat
He said, with a bit of a stutter.
So I went, and I listened with a sympathetic ear.
And saw he wasn’t feeling too good.
But I came home thinking how nice he was
And told him to ring me whenever he could
Well that was the start and we slowly progressed
And climbed out of the pit we were in.
We both had baggage and heartache untold
And nerves that were paper thin.
Now we are married and doing okay
And supporting each other day by day.
It hasn’t been easy, sometimes two steps back
Just as one step was going our way.
But we’re keeping focused and positive together
And come rain or shine, we’ll get through.
Life has to go on, we have no choice
Though I still often think about you.
September 13, 2012
I could pick you out in a
field of buttercups or in
a bed of clover growing wild.
I could sense the bond
almost instantaneously.
For a mother knows her child.
A frown says more than a million words.
Eyes wide open, set alarm bells ringing.
A shake of the head from left to right
says ‘to little hope, one is clinging.
Enter the protagonist
The formula soon to splatter.
They’d almost put the deal to bed, now
anarchy reigns and air waves shatter.
The late night prancer
The single girls dream
The compulsive chancer
The cat that got the cream
The married romancer
Go home, you fool – redeem.