Post the day to rest and I.
Gentle night come lullaby.
Whisper to my ear and kiss my eye.
Set free the stars to reign the night,
And wash away the day’s goodbye.
Cover me, let my dreams take flight.
Bring to me my love rejected
From my night reverie selected,
For days love dejected.
Entangle my cataleptic bed,
With visions of life that I’ve corrected.
Let her kisse...
Thursday 1st February 2018 3:01 pm
This poem is a reverie and contemplation of my mother.
Time and Windows
If the past is a tattered old book,
then why am I a ghost
at my mother's window,
so clear I can sense her mystery,
and her brown eyes, so alive?
Look, I can fly to her
through the high windows
of my memory
until I'm so close that she disappears,
and the curtain flutters silently.
Friday 29th December 2017 10:44 am
Tuesday 8th January 2013 12:42 am
These travelling shoes
walk without weary wonder
they drift past
into tangential horizons
and that is where
this wandering soul
goes off to, willing
and remembered only
by fleeted echoes
of short-memoried soles.
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Monday 19th September 2011 2:44 pm