The Chair

An ugly piece Of furniture, Stuffed with wonderful Memories

Miss H

Deep within the troubled sou; underneath the toughend skin; far beyond the frozen glare; down beneath the wretched smile;

Dreamy

Dozing off, Realms visited whilst I strolled, Every sensation, more real than this, Amazed by the hum of distant voices, Must be him, Yesterday, the hum getting so loud,

Paris

Part of this city should be called kisses, Amorous couples wrapped up in bliss, Romance is mushrooming, Is it a full moon? Softly let him kiss you.

Sammy Davis

So he could sizzle, Amazing the audience with one glittering glide, Mesmerized by the toe-tapping trail blazer, Making a clear impression of Cary Grant,

Psychedelic

Piece of Picasso’s proud face Smiling at an unknown village woman, wobbling with mangoes, Yellow flowers whirl around the hem of a fifties circle skirt,

Death of a Bird

Waiting to pounce hidden discreetly The sleek black cat crouches Moving not a muscle Watching intently Suddenly It springs The victim has been chosen An unsuspecting bird.
Cherry

February

The world is angled in black and white. I long for the soft curves of spring and all its shapely colours, blooming like a fist unclenched.

Footprints

We turn and see our footsteps curving back. Our every step recorded by damp sand. This empty beach acquires a memory. But, history is never straightforward.

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