November 28, 2012

 

 

 

She heard his voice, and knew in  

seconds they’d be face to face.

She heard his nearing footsteps

and felt her heartbeat gather pace.

 

 

November 27, 2012

 

 

He had the delicate touch of a lump hammer.

His comments were always pile driven.

He attempted humour where angels fled.

His naivety,  not always forgiven.

 

 

 

 

A broken promise,

a scurrilous deed.

An act of treason,

based on need.

An altercation,

where handbags flew,

when she discovered

he’d slept with you.

 

 

 

 

Never knock the marriage that has

worked for them, for in sitting silently

they’ve discovered harmony and pride,

and are on course for the long term ride.

 

 

 

 

When others mock your accent,

and in it find laughter and mirth,

consider them rude and untravelled,

and not a minute of time, to be worth.

Just be proud to speak in your

motherland tongue;

be proud of the place of your birth.

 

 

November 25, 2012

 

 

You came, you saw,

you loitered with intent.

I saw, I came,

I willingly did relent.

 

 

 

 

He quietly put the key in the lock,

the hour was late and he needed affection.

But the key wouldn’t budge, for he was at

the wrong house, fast realising his

memory stick had lost it’s direction.

 

 

 

 

His influence was massive,

but their respect twofold.

Both giving strength to each other,

and when needed, truth, be told.

 

 

 

 

 

When you awaken to find his

toes tickling your feet, and his

heart against your body, racing

at a speedy beat.

You know there’s just two seconds

to come up with a plan, to figure

where you are, and who, beside you,

is this man?

 

 

 

 

 

When out of the blue,

a little love bug comes calling

Flick the head of the little love bug,

and send him sprawling.

 

 

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