Sit with me by the water’s edge
watch the world floating by
let the waves wash away
all those troubles and worries
talk to me about nothing much
just life and the colour
of the sky and sand
but please, just sit
with me, for a little while.
Trace the paths
with your fingertips
see where they disappear
into nothing, hedges
and secret places.
*
See where our world
begins and ends
stays within the hedgerows
that border this kingdom,
a land of make-believe.
*
See where the grass
dips, where the banks
roll away and the daffodils
bloom, where we lie
under the blossom tree.
*
See where we grow
like flowers blooming
in the wild, secret, protected
and rooted in the soil,
the fabric of this place.
Perhaps, your skeleton lies
at the bottom of the ocean
and I am just trying to find it,
following a road with no map
plummetting into the darkness
falling into something I can’t fathom
like divers who explore the depths
of the ocean, less familiar
than the surface of the moon.
Ships rest on the seabed,
hulls perfectly preserved
not wanting to be found.
Darkness does not encourage
life to thrive, a vacuum
like the one that you left
behind, the day that you went
somewhere I cannot follow,
as mysterious as the ocean depths.
After the snowdrops
have shown themselves
hope contained within
the petals
comes the gorse
with its yellow flowers
lining the hedgerows.
Then the daffodils,
bright yellow, spring
up in clusters by the side
of the road, lanes, woods, banks,
a vibrant burst of colour
welcome after the grey and the cold.
Then the primrose,
nestling under hedges
and bushes, pale yellow
dotting the landscape,
beckoning spring closer.
Sunshine melts the snow
blue skies, round white balls,
as big as barrels
the remains of snowmen
linger in green fields, lonely.
Snowdrops re-emerge from under
their temporary winter blanket
and it’s as if,
it was never there at all.
thoughts fly free as I drive
further further
weights taking off
as the miles roll under me
the wheels turning
over over
I cross the water
the ropes that bind me
are cut free
and I return
to me
little
by
little
as
I
fly
again.
I have flown away, across rivers and seas
since you granted me my wings
and I unclipped them, travelling
on the tide until I found
my resting place
and didn’t look back
The internet is littered
with the remains of our half started
dreams and schemes,
a web of tangled ideas
conceived but never fully realised
abandoned, but a footprint
remains, a winding trail,
pieces of who we are
only half formed.
I held tightly onto your hand
afraid that I was so small
I would fly away in the wind
like a lost balloon.
I thought if I ever let go
I might dance away
like the fluttering leaves
that were falling on my head.
But when I did let go,
taller and less likely to
blow away I found
that I didn’t need
to hold on, and I was
able to stand alone.
