January 18, 2015

 

 

A dove flew by

to tell me,

that you were

doing fine.

 

He said you

loved me still,

and that I

mustn’t pine.

 

A second dove

then joined him,

and whispered

in his ear,

 

saying you’d

sent a PS

that I should

wipe away my tear!

 

 I told the doves

to go back,

and tell you to

take a better view.

 

The tears are

for myself

as I have the

bloomin’ Flu.

 

and they’ll also

have a PS,

when back to you

they swoop.

 

I’m sure you’ve

guessed my message,

with this hint,

of pending poop!

 

You see the 

crux of the matter,

(so hard to deal with,

I find.)

 

is that I can’t

forgive you Darling,

for leaving me

behind!

 

 

 

 

And the end came again,

as that feeling kicked in.

The one buried deep,

and held firmly within,

that temporarily surges

when chaos abounds,

before faithful stoicism,

a crisis surrounds.

 

 

 

 

And in the evening

when she knew,

she kept it from him,

and withdrew.

 

Some peace she needed;

some sleep was due.

So she rang next day,

as if her news brand new.

 

 

 

 

The next one will be

a compromise.

No bad thing when seen,

through wiser eyes.

 

Hard lessons learnt

after sad goodbyes,

though love lives on,

as the final prize.

 

 

 

 

 

‘I know’ she said;

‘I’ve always known’!

‘But I don’t worry about,

what I can’t condone’.

‘No point to grumble

and to groan.

That’s why I choose

to be alone.

 

 

 

January 16, 2015

 

 

‘The next stop will be

London Marylebone’,

taped words that echo

through the carriage.

The train mostly full of daily

commuters, who collect

their belongings in readiness

to go about their routine,

now swarm like a disturbed

ant hill onto the platform.

Some hail taxi’s, some queue

for buses, others melt away

in a filtered frenzy towards

Marylebone Road.

There’s a crowd gathered at

the rear entrance of the

Landmark Hotel, waiting to

catch a glimpse of footballers

climbing into their team coach,

before being whisked away for

another midweek game.

A few passengers hurry off

to the left into Dorset Square,

paying homage to Dodie Smith,

as they walk passed her home,

where a well earned blue plaque

appears on the wall. She, being

best remembered for her delightful

tale about a hundred and one tails.

A further trickle of passengers

walk out of the stations side exit

towards Lisson Grove, passing

the Seashell, notably one of the

smartest fish & chip shops in

miles, ( the possibility of a fish

supper, a thought that helps

get them through the day).

But for now, it’s business as usual,

and all is well in the Capitol.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And though the litter

just days old,

it took only moments

to spot one so bold.

 

And then the greediest

by hunger led,

had soon gained weight,

and had the largest head.

 

The mild mannered one

waited in the queue,

until her mother’s teat

appeared on view.

 

But the smallest one

that they said might die,

I reared myself,

when he caught my eye.

 

 

January 15, 2015

 

 

‘Please could you come out

from under the table now

Suzette, and take yourself

home. Our Arrabella is about

to be served her meal, and

there isn’t enough to share

with you, and besides, your

Mother will be wondering

where you’ve got to.

It would be nice if you could

help to fold up the sheet

before you leave.

You can come back tomorrow,

but what you both find to talk

about all this time, in your

tiny, white tented world –

God only knows!

 

 

January 14, 2015

 

 

A caressing thumb,

stroking the back of the hand;

warm flesh on flesh,

soon to leave, as planned.

 

Each touch agonising,

as a tear descends,

when the parting imminent,

of trusted friends.

 

 

 

 

 

To see such beauty

in a knot,

when bound together

as if time forgot.

 

To know such security

from a ring:

A band of gold,

no flippant thing!

 

 

 

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